


What We Do When We're Not Killing Titans

by SpaceShaolin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceShaolin/pseuds/SpaceShaolin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unrelated one-shots that take a look at the real faces of the men and women who work hard to protect humanity.</p><p>Be warned: they do not get better over time. Do not read without your doctor's prescription.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Head Doctor

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

Eren was not afraid of anything. He didn’t give two shits about dying. He strove to make fear his bitch. He laughed in the face of danger. He was the bravest man Armin ever knew.

Until now.

Oh, they’d heard all the stories. They were aware of everything a cadet had to go through before he became a proper soldier. They knew all about Keith Fucking Shadis. But never had it crossed their young, impressionable minds that needles were to be involved in the entire process.

Standard procedure dictated that all cadets were required to get needle shots on their first day at camp. Nobody knew exactly why – not even the doctors themselves. But it was a rule and Lord help them if they even thought about breaking the rules so early on in their Titan-slaying career.

“Come on, Jaeger,” the doctor pleaded, holding out a syringe. “It’s not even going to hurt, like a bee sting.”

“Yeah, like hell it will.”

“Eren, it’s fine. I had my shot and I’m still alive,” Armin said, holding out his punctured arm for emphasis.

“I don’t care. I hate needles.”

“Jaeger, it’ll only be like an ant bite. Don’t worry about it.”

“You just said it was like a bee sting. Make up your mind.”

“Sorry, but he’s uncomfortable around needles.” Armin turned to the doctor, his penchant for stating the obvious once again revealing itself.

“I’m not _uncomfortable_ around needles, Armin, I _hate_ them. You make me sound like I’m scared of them or something.” Eren crossed his arms, so as not to have them so easily grabbed by the doctor.

“But you _are_ scared of them.”

“What’s that for anyway?” Eren said, quickly diverting all attention away from his fear of bee stings. “I don’t need your stupid needles to be a good soldier.”

“It’s for your blood,” the doctor said, with just the faintest hint of an “I don’t know” flickering across his eyes. Armin caught it instantly.

“You have no idea what it’s for, do you.”

Eren’s eyes widened at the statement. “You mean you’ve been putting things in the other trainees without knowing what they’re _for?_ ”

The doctor began to sweat profusely. “Well, not exactly, I mean we _do_ know what we’re putting in you young soldiers. Sort of. I mean… look, will you just take the shot please?”

“Armin, quick, start throwing up! We have to get those weird things out of your system!”

“Eren, that makes no sense whatsoever –”

“Oh shit, what if they got to Mikasa too?! Doctor, you’re evil! All of you are evil! You’re no different from _him_ after all!” Eren ran over to the door to get to Mikasa in the other room with the rest of the girls, but halted as soon as the door swung open.

“What’s going on here?” the Head Doctor demanded.

“Boy refuses to take his shots, sir,” the doctor replied, a haughty “you’re in for it now” expression flickering across his eyes. This time, Armin did not catch it instantly. He was still holding onto Eren in a delayed attempt to stop him from getting at the door.

“Oh, is that all?” the Head Doctor said. “Jaeger, don’t you want to be protected against pneumonia?”

“Pneumonia?” Armin asked. “But the other doctor said it was for –”

“Pneumonia,” the other doctor said. “I said it was for pneumonia.”

“But just a while ago, you said it was for –”

“ _Pneumonia._ How many times must I tell you, cadet? The shot’s obviously for pneumonia prevention.”

“I already told the other doctor, I don’t do needles.”

“And you’re absolutely right. Needles are bad for you, son. Drugs are never the answer.”

“Huh?” Eren asked, looking to Armin for clarification.

“Sir?” the other doctor asked, looking to the Head Doctor for clarification.

“But as it is, everyone needs to get their shot treatment before they even consider stepping out on those practice fields,” the Head Doctor continued. “Why, if you don’t get your shot right away, who knows what skin lesions you could suffer out there!”

“ _Skin lesions?_ You just said it was for –”

“Skin lesions. That’s what we said, right?” the other doctor said, cutting off Armin before he could begin asking his pesky questions again.

“What the hell’s a skin lesion?” Eren asked, looking at everybody in the room for clarification. “Is it… is it lethal?”

“Oh, yes,” the Head Doctor said, a severe look crossing his features. “If it isn’t treated right away, you could die from them.”

“… Really?” Armin asked.

“Oh, yes,” the other doctor said.

“Listen,” the Head Doctor said, turning to the other doctor. “Could you go and check up on the other trainees? I think I can take it from here.”

The other doctor nodded and moved to exit the room, but not before sticking his tongue out at Eren. Eren, in an effort to match the other doctor’s maturity level, flipped him the bird.

The Head Doctor took no notice of the exchange and began looking through his notes. He was, Armin noticed, a doctor who looked and acted just like any other doctor would look and act like, except he didn’t have the habit of throwing out big words to confuse everybody and make himself look smarter. Armin always thought that doctors threw out big words to distract their patients from the huge hole on their chests or some other mortal wound. It was a clever strategy, but Armin did not see the point in trying it out on patients who had suffered, say, a papercut. The words “copious hemorrhage” were not words to describe a papercut.

“Look, Doc, I’m fine, really.” Eren puffed out his chest. Armin wondered if the tight feeling in his stomach was a premonition of a Very Bad Event, or if it was just because of that awful slop they called military rations.

“Sorry, Jaeger, but you really need to take the shots.”

“But I’m fine.”

“Oh come now. Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what? That I’m fine?”

“Yes.”

A moment of silence followed. Armin tried not to mind the awkwardness of the situation by focusing on the Growing Dread in his stomach. This was not going to end well.

“Well, why not?” Eren finally broke the silence.

“Why not what?”

“Why can’t I say I’m fine?”

“Because you’re not qualified to make that statement.”

“Qualified? What the hell do you mean I’m not qualified?”

Armin checked his stomach again. Yes, there were definitely some signs of Feared Anxiety starting up in there.

“Because you’re the patient. Patients can’t just say they’re fine and expect to be let out immediately.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, just think of it this way: if a crazy man said he wasn’t crazy and his doctor let him out of the hospital because he believed him, wouldn’t that be a problem? Not just for society, mind you, but for the doctor as well. He could lose his job.”

“But I’m not crazy.”

“Ah, but how do you know you’re _not_ crazy, Jaeger?”

“Armin’s here. He can tell you I’m not crazy.”

Armin thought Eren was crazy for insisting on prolonging this argument with a man who was obviously doing his very best to annoy everybody in the room. He was also a little bit flattered that Eren considered him smart enough to convince the Head Doctor of his sanity.

“Perhaps. But he’s not qualified to make that statement.”

“What?”

“Yes.”

“Why not? He’s smart. He can tell you if I’m crazy or not.”

“Because he’s not a doctor. I’m afraid only doctors are qualified to make such statements.”

“What? That’s stupid.”

“Not really. Because unlike you normal folk, we doctors have studied and trained extensively to be able to distinguish the crazies from the non-crazies.”

“But I already told you I’m not crazy.”

“Sorry, but I really can’t take your word for it.”

Armin found the entire conversation fascinating to watch – if ping pong had been invented at the time, that would have been the metaphor he would use to describe it. So engrossed was he in their rapid back-and-forth, he almost forgot about his stomach problems.

“Fine,” Eren said, also becoming very annoyed. “So, you tell me, Doc. What does your training tell you about me?”

“That you’re not crazy.”

Armin counted six seconds before Eren exploded into an unholy rage.

_“But that’s what I said –”_

“Yep. A perfectly normal boy who wants nothing more in life than to make Titans extinct. Totally not crazy.”

_“They killed my MOTHER, you insensitive fuck –”_

“Yes, yes. I understand completely, Jaeger. But you have to think – just what kind of a world do we live in now, where children like you dream of becoming soldiers and killing other living beings?”

A moment of silence followed, as the trainees pondered over the good doctor’s words. It was amazing, Armin thought, that this Head Doctor should be so wise and benevolent and inspiring all at the same time. Amazing, that this Head Doctor was able to channel memories of Armin's late grandfather with just that one statement. The resemblance was uncanny.

“… So, does this mean I’m good to go?”

And as usual, Eren had to go and ruin the moment.

“Absolutely _not,_ Jaeger.”

“But I already said I’m fine!”

“No, you are not. Only a qualified doctor can tell a patient how he’s feeling.”

“How about if I fall in love, huh? Are you _qualified_ enough to tell me if I’m in love?”

“Not unless you get sick of it, no.”

“But how would you know how I’m feeling? You’re not me!”

“No, but I’m qualified.”

“That’s stupid. _You’re_ stupid. Those rules are stupid!”

“Sorry, but rules are rules.”

“But you’re the Head Doctor! You could change those rules if you wanted to!”

“Not really.”

“And why the hell not?!”

“Because I’m not qualified to do that.”

It only took Eren another six seconds to fully process that statement. Armin was impressed. He'd expected Eren to process it in twelve.

“Wait, so lemme get this straight: you’re qualified to tell me how I feel, but you’re not qualified to change the rules. Even if you’re the Head Doctor.”

“Yes, exactly right.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Oh, I don’t know. Quite a lot of people are thankful I specialize in saving lives instead of changing rules.”

At last, at long, long last, Eren finally admitted defeat. The boy, who had been standing the entire time, slunk into a chair and groaned loudly, making sure that everyone knew about his pain and turmoil. “I have a headache.”

“Excellent!” the Head Doctor clapped his hands.

Eren could be hardly heard from the chair. “Yay.”

“So, how about that shot?”

“ _Fine,_ I’ll take your damn shot if it’ll make you shut up.”

The Head Doctor carefully held up a syringe. “All you have to do is stay calm, Jaeger. This’ll feel just like a mosquito bite.”

“But the other doctor said it was just like a bee sting!”

“Did he?” the Head Doctor said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to take his word for it now, won’t I?”

“Doctor, you’re sure about this?” Armin spoke up, readying himself to restrain Eren in case he got angry again.

“Well, sure,” the Head Doctor shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I take his word for it?”

“I dunno, because he’s _qualified?_ ” Eren sneered.

“Precisely.”

“Good. I thought I forgot.”


	2. Reiner

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

It had become distressingly clear to Bertolt that Reiner was becoming more and more obsessed with the idea of proving his masculinity to the world. This never happened before. Gone was the nice, gentle boy he had grown up with, replaced with a loud, vulgar teenager he was now forced to put up with.

Reiner used to be the kid who was usually content with just sitting quietly with Bertolt as they talked about nothing and everything for hours and hours. Now, he had immatured into someone who felt the need to throw his weight around on a minutely basis, while commenting loudly about somebody’s ass at the same time.

It was all very distressing for Bertolt. Where was the Reiner Braun he had grown up with? Who was this huge, hulking creature with him now, who insisted on letting more and more people into what used to be a private circle of two?

This wasn’t fair. And if Bertolt thought about it hard enough, he could pinpoint the exact moment when everything unpleasant in his life had begun.

Ever since Reiner had been pussy-whipped so brutally by Annie during that one fateful sparring session, nothing else had been the same. Ever since that moment, Reiner had become a changed man. In the middle of fretting about his loss and planning his eventual revenge on their blonde-haired comrade, he had somehow gotten the idea that everyone in the 104th thought he was weak for losing to Annie. Bertolt couldn’t even begin to imagine where Reiner had gotten such a crazy idea.

“You’re crazy,” he said to him one evening in the mess hall. “I can’t even imagine where you’d get such an idea.”

“It’s obvious,” Reiner moaned, wringing his hands. “Nobody thinks I’m good enough anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Bertholt said, knocking his hands apart to stop the wringing. “Nobody thinks that.”

“It’s obvious, it’s obvious,” Reiner continued to moan, moving a free hand to wring his hair instead. “Unless I take down someone fair and square, I’ll never be good for anyone ever again.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Bertolt said, slapping the hand away from his head to stop the wringing. “ _I_ always think you’re good enough.”

“You always think that.” When Reiner couldn’t wring anything anymore without risking the chance of being stopped by Bertolt, he decided to pout at his food instead.

“Reiner, you’re being stupid.”

“No, I’m not. It’s called being a soldier.”

“What part of hand-wringing and moaning and pouting is called being a soldier?”

“Bertolt, I have a plan.”

“Oh no.”

“All I have to do is take down her down right here, right now, so nobody will think I’m a pansy ever again. Nobody.”

“Reiner, no one here thinks you’re a –”

_“Nobody.”_

“Reiner, no.”

“Reiner, yes.”

“Reiner, please stop this.”

“Look, there’s Annie right there at the back. She’s all alone and not eating with anyone. If I take her now, that’ll be the end of it.”

“No.”

“It will be so easy. I’ll just walk up to her, distract her a little, then _bam,_ instant smack down.”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, Bertolt, I’m not going to ask you to come with me on such a dangerous mission. Sometimes, a man has to do things for himself without relying on anyone else.”

“No.”

“And as a good soldier, I’m going to bravely go where no man has gone before, confront that bitch Annie Leonhart, take what’s mine, and get all the glory. Nobody will disrespect me again.”

“No.”

“Dammit, Bertolt, is there anything else you want to say to me besides all that negativity?”

“Nobody disrespects you, Reiner.”

“That’s what you think. I’m off and you’re not going to stop me.”

Bertolt didn’t even try to stop Reiner, as he pushed himself off his bench and locked his eyes on his target. Bertolt looked around fretfully and was at least comforted by the fact that nobody was really paying any attention. At dinner time, everyone was dead-tired from all the drills they had to do in the day, making them too wasted to even think about doing anything else.

He wished it was the same with Annie.

But that was not to be so. In ten terrifying seconds, Bertolt felt his blood run cold as he saw Annie raise her head to meet Reiner’s steely gaze. There was an open challenge burning brightly in those eyes and it was all focused on Reiner. Despite his earlier feelings on the matter, Bertolt was hoping against hope that Reiner would just go ahead and do what he wanted to do, so it would all be over quickly.

It didn't happen.

Instead, Reiner stopped moving, seemingly frozen in time, as the challenge in his eyes slowly ebbed and faded away under Annie's scrutinizing glare. His joints seemed to lock down by themselves and it looked like his lungs were trying valiantly to catch up to his breath. His legs had given out and refused to move any further in the direction of Annie Leonhart.

 _Is this what it feels like to be scared?_ was the thought currently running through Reiner's head.

Reiner swallowed a breath and gulped.

Annie stared at him.

Reiner blinked.

Annie continued to stare.

Reiner gave up.

Reiner went back.

Bertolt turned to look at him, a furious “I told you so” dancing triumphantly in his eyes, then turned to look at Annie. Her heavy stare was still locked on the ashen-faced Reiner for a few more seconds, before she shifted her eyes to Bertolt. There was a warning there and Bertolt took heed of it. Seemingly satisfied with his terrified immobility, Annie turned back to her meal.

“A strategic retreat, that’s all.” Bertolt heard Reiner mumbling. “Sometimes a soldier has to know when to cut his losses and retreat. It doesn’t mean I’m weak. It just means she’s stronger.”

“How does _that_ make any sense?!”

“Eat your dinner, Bertolt.” Reiner shoved food into his mouth, skirting the issue entirely. Bertolt cast a glance at Annie’s table again and saw that Mina Carolina had sat herself down beside her without a care in the world. Annie tried her best to look disinterested, but it was obvious she was listening to everything Mina Carolina was saying. Reiner had ceased all talk of taking revenge and regaining dignity for the rest of the night.

All was right in the world.

* * *

Nothing was alright in this world, Bertolt decided.

Five days had passed since that episode at the mess hall without Reiner talking about his insane revenge fantasies. Bertolt thought that Annie’s unspoken challenge had put an end to Reiner’s ramblings. Bertolt was wrong.

“It’s her,” he said to Bertolt, pointing a finger at Mikasa Ackerman. “She’s perfect.”

Bertolt shook his head and gripped Reiner’s arm tightly before he could kill himself again. “No.”

“If I beat her, nobody will disrespect me again.”

“No.” Bertolt repeated.

“Seriously, will you quit it with all this negativity? You’re not helping anybody,” Reiner said, appraising his friend with a disapproving glance.

“Nobody’s disrespecting you, Reiner.”

“That’s what you think.”

“Please just take my word for it, please, please, _please_ , Reiner, before you kill yourself again.”

“Who said I killed myself the last time?”

“The decision to take on Annie was all yours, Reiner.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

“Just listen to me for three seconds, will you? She will _massacre_ you.”

“No she won’t. Oh, wait, look, there’s Nac.”

“Reiner -”

“He’s almost as good as I am in physical combat. Ha, see, I told you, Bertolt, Mikasa’s existence is an affront to us men.”

“Mikasa has nothing –”

“Have you seen her abs? She’s out-abbed me, that sneaky girl. No one can out-ab me. You hear that, Bertolt? _No one._ Not you, not Mikasa, not _Annie, that little midget bitch –”_

Reiner stopped mid-rant just in time to witness Nac Tius get his limbs re-arranged by Mikasa Ackerman.

The outcome was nasty. Nac lay face-down on the ground, unable to move at all, which he made up for by letting out a long, pitying whine. Mikasa calmly walked away from the carnage, her face an unreadable mask of boredom.

Bertolt slowly turned to look at Reiner again, the same “I told you so” look dancing in his eyes. Reiner broke off eye contact with him, choosing instead to sneak a glance at Nac’s immobile form, which was now being examined by Marco and Christa. Jean and Ymir were behind them, laughing hysterically at Nac’s foolish attempt to challenge Mikasa.

Bertolt cleared his throat.

Reiner looked back at him. “I… I guess Mikasa’s out, then.”

That was all he got out of his mouth before Bertolt gave a satisfied nod and dragged him over to the small circle gathered around Nac, so that Reiner might be able to see the consequences of thinking with your biceps instead of your brains up-close.

Reiner, however, was more interested in Connie and Sasha, both of whom had begun an impromptu prayer service over Nac’s remains.

“Woah, that’s so cool,” Connie was saying, once he had run out of prayers to chant.

“Should his arm be even bending that way?” Sasha asked, scooting closer so that she might see.

“I know something else on him that shouldn’t be bending –”

Bertolt spent the rest of the day ignoring the annoyed looks Connie, Sasha, and Reiner gave him after that.

* * *

“Did you _hear_ what she said? Did you, Bertolt? I am going to _tear this bitch apart._ ”

“Reiner, no!”

“Come on, just let him go already. I wanna see what the big boy can do,” Ymir said, yawning widely. “Besides, I bet he hits like a wuss.”

“Dammit, Ymir, just wait ‘till I get my hands on –”

“Ha, not if your boyfriend lets go of you first.”

Bertolt let go of Reiner in a characteristic bout of self-consciousness. “I’m not his boyfriend.”

But the two had already started their rumble before the words had come out of his mouth.

Everything was beyond fixing already, a fact which distressed Bertolt to no end. Where? he asked himself, where had it all gone wrong? This wasn’t fair.

Reiner should have never tried to take on Annie to show he was boss. Reiner should have never challenged her to prove that he was the top dog of the 104th. If he hadn’t done that, then he would not be entangled in a mess of limbs and dislocations with Ymir right now.

Bertolt looked closely. It looked as if Reiner was losing. Reiner, with all his blab about being a good soldier, was losing quite badly. And Bertolt didn’t know if he should feel guilty for finding so much joy and relief in his best friend’s imminent loss.

Perhaps it was time for Reiner to learn all about being a soldier the good, old, hands-on-fashioned way. He thought he knew everything about being a soldier, but he had regrettably missed the most important part: that half of being a soldier was pain and suffering and death, and if a beating at Ymir’s hands was all it took to drive that lesson home, then Bertolt would not stand in her way.

The other half of being a soldier, Bertolt thought, was knowing when to quit, so you could get back and try to win all over again. A soldier had to know when to cut his losses and retreat. And once he had healed up, the ugly cycle would repeat itself all over again. Pain, recovery, pain, recovery… death. Bertolt could not see why Reiner was so enamored with the idea of being a soldier. He did not know where his best friend had gotten the deluded idea that being a soldier meant getting glory after a victory. Didn’t he know that every victory came with a loss? That to get that glory, a soldier had to give up a lot of things?

Bertolt didn’t think Reiner knew then. But he sure was learning it quickly now.

Bertolt let a few more minutes pass by before deciding to throw in the towel, partly because he felt Reiner had learned his lesson, and mostly because he just felt sorry for him. Reiner should count himself lucky that nobody else was around to witness him getting his face pummeled into the dirt.

Bertolt walked over to the pair and lifted Ymir off Reiner. He held her a good number of inches above the ground and issued her a warning.

“No more of this,” was all he said before setting her on her feet.

“Hmph. It’s not like he was any good anyway,” Ymir muttered, trying not to be so obvious about her growing black eye.

“Eat… dirt… Ymugh.”

Well, at least she was still standing. Ymir kicked Reiner’s head in finality before sprinting off to find Christa, presumably to show off her war wounds.

Bertolt crouched down to where his best friend was still lying on the dirt and prodded his side carefully to check if he was still alive.

“The _hell_ didjoo jus’ do? I was _winnin’!_ The hell didjoo do that for?”

Bertolt lifted his friend up slowly and began to walk towards the med bay. He looked at Reiner once and answered his question in a way only he would understand.

“I was being a soldier.”


	3. Keith Fucking Shadis

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

Keith Fucking Shadis did not like this one fucking bit. Here at Titan-slaying boot camp, he was God. His word was sacred. Everybody did what he fucking wanted. But this was different, he was told. This was outside his jurisdiction, or so the higher-ups wanted him to believe.

Well, Keith Fucking Shadis would not fucking have any of it. But that was only if he had the fucking authority to do so. There was a saying that one was not to judge a book by its cover. Wise men would tell you that you would get no better example of that than Keith Fucking Shadis himself. Wiser men would just stay out of his way.

Despite what his demeanor would suggest, Keith Fucking Shadis did not rank so high up the military chain of command. After all, he was only a drill sergeant, tasked with guiding the bright minds of tomorrow, so that they would not end up as entrées of man-eating giants. He was not so important in the grand scheme of politics. So yes, Keith Fucking Shadis still had people to fucking report to. And somehow, these very people had gotten it into their fucking minds to completely fuck up his training regimen for the day.

And Keith Fucking Shadis did not like this at fucking all.

Because if he had his way, renowned Wallist Pastor Nick would not be here at his boot camp to brainwash his trainees. If he had his say, his recruits would be running their laps two hours ago.

But as it was, his fucking superiors had decided that sending Pastor Nick down over to Keith Fucking Shadis’ fucking boot camp would be a good way of boosting morale. They figured that if the good Pastor told the new recruits not to fear the Titans and that there was no reason for fighting them, then maybe these kids would be more motivated to work harder to make the Top Ten, and join the Military Police to protect their beloved King. Surely, protecting their King would be a more worthwhile endeavor than chasing after Titans?

Keith Fucking Shadis had to fucking hand it to them. Only they could think of something so fucking ingenious with their own backwards way of thinking. Keith Fucking Shadis wondered how long humanity would have before these fucking politicians got their heads out of their fucking assholes so they could stop fucking over the general populace.

Keith Fucking Shadis took a moment to take a look at his trainees’ fucking reactions and noticed that only a handful of them were not buying the good Pastor’s bullshit. The drill sergeant frowned. More training obviously had to be done. More people needed to know that Titans were to be killed, not worshipped.

The good Pastor finally finished his speech and Keith Fucking Shadis made his fucking way over to where Pastor Nick was.

“Thank you for your kind words, Pastor,” he said. “We’re very grateful to have heard you talk to us.”

“Oh, it really wasn’t any bother –”

“And I better not hear any of you shits subscribing to whatever horse crap the good Pastor just said.”

He caught some of his trainees go pale in the fucking face, while Pastor Nick looked like he’d caught a bad case of diarrhea. Good.

“Really now, sir, I don’t think there’s any need for that kind of attitude –”

“Weren’t you supposed to be at another cult meeting somewhere in Sina?” This time, Keith Fucking Shadis didn’t even give the Pastor any fucking time to respond to that. “Get the hell out of my boot camp. We have drills to run.”

Pastor Nick hauled ass and scurried out of the camp, muttering things about how some people were going to hear about this and other things a good Pastor shouldn’t really be caught saying.

Satisfied with the way the good Pastor's face had gone so ashen in so short a time, Keith Fucking Shadis nodded to himself and turned to his fucking recruits. “Twenty laps, twenty minutes. Get to it, ladies!”

They almost tripped all over themselves before beginning their running. The drill sergeant saw their terrified faces and swore he could almost smile.

“WAGNER! SPRINGER! Leave Arlert alone, the boy can run on his own fucking feet!”

Nothing but holy terror on their faces.

Business as fucking usual.

* * *

Keith Fucking Shadis did not fucking like children. Before his drastic career change from squad commander to drill sergeant, the idea of meeting them, much less working with them, had never crossed his mind.

But look at him now. Neck-deep in all these young recruits, all of them too young to be facing the horrors of the Titans outside. All of them still children when they entered boot camp, yet by the time they graduated, they would still be too young to be considered proper adults. Looking at their faces now, you'd think you were looking into the hope of tomorrow. But Keith Fucking Shadis was not so fucking naïve. No matter how hard he trained them, pushed them, or yelled at them, he knew that most of these cadets would only end up as another dead body.

He hated his job, he really did. Most days, it felt like he was fattening them up for their eventual kills, instead of molding them into saviors of humanity. Sometimes, he would wonder to himself what would have happened if he stayed with the Scouting Legion. On one hand, he’d be facing death everyday. On the other, it had to beat dealing with children you knew were going to die sooner or later. 

Same fucking difference, he figured eventually, although being a drill sergeant had its perks. As a squad commander, he could either help his men or stay alive - and even then, there was no guarantee he was going to make it out of the mission alive. As a drill sergeant, he could do both, while being a hundred percent confident in his chances. And at least here, he knew he was really making some kind of a difference. 

He snorted at that. If being a healthy fucking influence was going to be his one fucking contribution to humanity's future, then he'll fucking take it. The fact that he was the closest thing most of these kids had to a father was not lost on Keith Fucking Shadis. And so, he’d taken it upon himself to show them some tough fucking love.

And yet, there were days when Keith Fucking Shadis had to force himself to remember that these were still fucking _children_ he was yelling at. Fucking children who deserved to grow up in happier times, children who deserved complete sets of parents, children who weren’t supposed to be undergoing harsh training for a soldier’s life.

Yes, even Keith Fucking Shadis had days when he questioned and second-guessed himself. Was this really the right career choice for him? How long before he received news of the deaths of half his class? Did Blouse really deserve all those laps? Was the potato really that fucking important?

He’d drink, if only he could appreciate the taste of liquor. After all, shaping and molding new recruits into the soldiers of tomorrow was no easy job, and hard drink was almost mandatory to get through every day. Teaching them how to kill the enemy, only for half of them to die on their first mission, was enough to drive anyone to the bottle.

But not Keith Fucking Shadis. 

Keith Fucking Shadis was harder than any alcohol. He was so hard, that when lesser men ended up drunk out of their skulls, Keith Fucking Shadis would still be fucking standing there, ready for more.

Sure, he had days like those. But as far as he was concerned, those days could go take a fucking hike. They were his recruits, and by God, if he was going to have to teach them sober, then he would fucking do it. Even maggots had to grow up sometime, and Keith Fucking Shadis would make fucking sure that he would be right there when they did.

* * *

And then there were days like this.

Because, yes, even Keith Fucking Shadis had days when he questioned and second-guessed himself. In this case, the question was: why the fuck do I still have this job?

* * *

It was the 104th Class’ Unspoken Rule #9 that Mina Carolina was not to be called by her first name. She was also not to be called by her last name. She was to be called by both names, because that was just how much everyone loved saying her full name. Calling her by just one name made her seem incomplete. Almost as if she needed both names to be whole.

Which was precisely the reason why Keith Fucking Shadis did just fucking that.

He only addressed her as “Carolina,” because the Titans did not care whether you felt fucking whole or not, just because of your fucking name. They only cared that you were fucking alive, so that they could watch you scream and shit your pants before sliding you down their fucking throats.

It would have been the perfect lesson on fear and humility, had Springer not opened his fucking mouth.

“So that would mean they’d eat our shits too?”

Keith Fucking Shadis had dealt with too many fucking wiseguys in the past to even be fazed by this one now. “Those Titans will eat ANYTHING, as long as it’s human, screaming, and alive. Now drop down and give me sixty before I make you eat your own _SHIT,_ Springer!”

It was the 104th's 13th Unspoken Rule that Keith Fucking Shadis was to be addressed as exactly that, no more and no less. But to his face, you had to call him “Sir.” This was also Keith Fucking Shadis’ First Fucking Commandment.

Unspoken Rule #14 was that you never said anything to Keith Fucking Shadis unless he said anything to you first. This was also Keith Fucking Shadis’ Second Fucking Commandment.

(Keith Fucking Shadis' Third Fucking Commandment was that all the trainees were to obey their drill instructor without question.)

And because Connie Springer had violated two sets of rules at the same time, Connie Springer had to drop down and give Keith Fucking Shadis sixty fucking push-ups.

As it was, Keith Fucking Shadis was also feeling pretty fucking generous that day, which was why he also assigned Connie Springer to latrine duty for two weeks.

That ought to fucking teach him to stop talking about people’s shit.


	4. Mylius Zeramusky

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

Mylius was what you would call a late bloomer, so when puberty happened to him, you could say that he was in a bit of a shock. Puberty was very stressful for the young Mylius Zeramusky, who, up until now, was trying to do all he could to survive his second year of training camp without his dirty mind trying to get in the way of his young student life.

It was insane, this new thing that was happening to the young Mylius. His nether regions seemed to have a mind of their own and he was completely powerless to stop his dreams from happening. They were _good_ dreams, granted, but he wanted them to stop before things got worse.

They got worse, as things of this sort eventually do. And Mylius Zeramusky, whose forays into the wonderful world of romance were just about to begin, had no idea what to do about it.

So he did the first thing he thought of: seeking out a close friend to help him sort things out.

The problem was that his close friend was Nac Tius.

Nac was a rowdy, vulgar boy; the sort of boy you’d get if you crossed Eren’s boundless energy with Jean’s quick wit. Nobody knew how he and Mylius became close friends, but for some odd reason, the two just seemed to click, sharing some sort of otherworldly understanding and bond.

Nac Tius burst out laughing at Mylius Zeramusky’s predicament.

Mylius did not find anything remotely amusing about his situation at all. He glared at Nac.

“I should’ve just kept my mouth shut,” he scoffed and shook his head.

Nac continued laughing, his wheezes and gasps making it very difficult to say anything in reply.

The only reason Mylius stayed was because his otherworldly understanding and bond with Nac told him his friend was probably the only one who could help him out right now.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

The thing about Nac was that he fancied himself a playboy and the most handsome man on the planet. It was the sort of ego you’d get if you crossed Eren’s bull-headedness with Jean’s high opinion of himself. And yet, Nac had a steady sort-of relationship with Tia Hayes, who apparently didn’t seem to mind that Nac considered flirting an acceptable way of carrying conversations with women.

Mylius’ pillow finally put an end to Nac’s laughter.  

“So you want to have sex now, it’s no big deal,” Nac said, throwing the pillow back at Mylius.

“If it’s no big deal, then what’s with that reaction?”

The pair’s otherworldly understanding and bond alerted Mylius to another laughing bout from Nac, so he glared at him before he could start. To his credit, Nac managed to hold his laughter in before calming himself down. “’S just you growing up, man. No need to get so worked up about it.”

“I am _not_ worked up about anything.”

“Says the guy who wanted to have a _private_ talk about some _pressing matter._ ”

“It _is_ pressing for me! I don’t know why you think it’s funny!”

Nac guffawed at the word 'pressing.' Mylius didn’t know why.

“Just give in to it, Mylius,” Nac said once he calmed down. “You’re going to fall in love with half the women here at camp and trust me, it will be _the best_ thing to ever happen to you.”

“I don’t think I’m going to fall in love with half the girls here.”

“Why, you think you’re going to fall in love with half the men?”

“What? No! I’m not –”

“Chill, man, it was a joke.” Nac winked. “But for the record, I totally wouldn’t mind if you went for that kind of thing. It’s just I’m not into that, you know? Just so we’re clear.”

Mylius gaped at him, aghast. “And what ever gave you that idea?!”

“I’m just saying! And you don’t need to look so shocked about it. I said I wouldn’t mind, didn’t I?”

Sensing that the topic of conversation was veering further and further away from the track he originally wanted it to tread, Mylius went right back to the start.

“I’m serious, Nac! This is getting really bad for me!”

“ _How?_ ” Nac asked, unable to comprehend why gaining a libido was so bad for his friend. “I’m serious, Mylius! If you just let it fly, then you’ll be just fine. Trust me.”

It was to Nac’s credit that he didn’t stop to acknowledge his rhyming skills immediately after he said that.

Mylius didn’t look convinced.

“Just give it time, man. It’ll tone itself down, eventually. But seriously, how can you not love what’s happening to you right now? The first time I found out what this –” Here, Nac gestured to his nether regions. “ – could do, I thought it was the best thing to ever happen to me!”

Mylius was grateful for Keith Fucking Shadis summoning everybody to the training fields before Nac could launch into a spiel on his first encounter with the “Sex Fairy” (his words).

He was, however, not so grateful for the seventy-five laps Keith Fucking Shadis gave everybody for “scoring so fucking low on your last fucking exam” (his words).

Well, Mylius figured, at least he could do his thinking in peace during those laps. He just wished he didn't have to wear himself out while doing them. 

* * *

Three weeks after his eye-opening conversation with Nac, Mylius Zeramusky decided he was in love.

She was pretty beyond everything he’d ever imagined, had the most beautiful red hair, and had the brightest smile in the barracks.

Her name was Hannah.

If it was possible to write songs about her, Mylius would have already written enough to make up a theatrical play. Every time she passed, he could almost swear to seeing actual angels descend from the heavens, bathed in ethereal light, all of them singing the sweetest songs he’d ever heard.

The next day, almost everyone in the barracks knew of Mylius’ feelings. It was hard not to put two and two together, with the way Mylius' face contorted into all sorts of silly expressions whenever Hannah passed by or whenever her name was mentioned. As it was, Mylius did not have the slightest hint of subtlety. It was a small miracle Hannah either pretended not to notice or was really just unaware of his feelings.

It was unusual that Hannah did not catch onto Mylius’ crush on her, as Hannah usually made it her business to know everybody else’s. It was a bad character trait for any young girl to have, but because she was so nice and had a nice singing voice that reminded everyone of their mothers, nobody called her out for being intrusive.

Except for one trainee.

“Hannah? But she’s such a blab about everything!” Nac protested.

“She is _not!_ ” Mylius glared at the other boy. “She just knows everything about everyone, that’s all.”

Nac shrugged. “Blab.”

“Nac, I’m in love,” Mylius said. “It’s rude to make fun of people your best friend is in love with.”

“Except if she’s a blab.”

“You wouldn’t like it if I called Tia names, would you?”

“At least she’s not a blab.”

“Will you _quit_ calling her a blab? She is not!”

“Is too.”

“I’m not doing this with you right now.”

Nac shrugged again. “Speaking of doing,” he said and brought out his notebook. “There’s this little thing about the 3DMG I don’t get. You wanna explain it to me or something? Since you’re so smart and all.”

“I’m not smart. I just read a lot.”

“Same thing. I’d ask Armin, but since I don't really wanna go through Eren right now, I thought of asking you instead.”

“Do your own homework yourself, Nac.”

“Promise I won’t call your girlfriend a blab.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

 _Yet,_ his brain added. Oh, how beautiful life would become if Hannah agreed to be his girlfriend! Mylius could count all the ways he loved the lovely Hannah and he would run out of numbers before he finished the list. He loved her red hair. Her red hair, which might be hinting at all the passion and fire she hid underneath that motherly exterior. And sure, she talked about a lot of people a lot of the time, but she always did know the best stories about the other trainees.

'Gossip,' Mylius decided, was just too distasteful a term to describe Hannah’s hobby. The word 'story-telling' seemed more apt. Even if she was prone to a little exaggeration every now and then.

“Man, that is seriously lame.” Mylius snapped out of his thoughts and blinked at a scowling Nac. “You make that face at me any longer and people’ll think you _like_ me or something.”

“But I don’t _like_ you.”

“Fine, whatever, see if I do any more favors for your scrawny ass.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Shut it, beanpole, I think I’ll go ask Armin after all.” Nac stood up from his desk and turned to leave, but not before throwing Mylius a smirk. “I got two days’ dessert rations that say nothing happens between you and the blab.”

“I _said_ quit calling her a blab!”

“That’s not a no!” Nac cheered. “Your dessert is mine!”

He then trotted out of the room, on a quest to either find Armin for help or collect more bets for his outrageous demands.

Mylius stared despondently around the empty room. His best friend was not being the big help he’d imagined – a disappointment, seeing as Nac was the only one in the barracks who sort of had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that Tia Hayes didn’t say no to him, especially since with them, it was love at first fight. It was that the two of them were being so secretive about their relationship, when it was obvious to anybody with a pair of eyes that they were now an item. That didn't stop them from making lovestruck faces at each other in public, however.

It was a tragedy to be young, in love, and not being able to do a thing about it. Nac once suggested a way for Mylius to relieve himself of the boredom and the stress of being unable to do anything about his lack of a love life. Mylius turned it down, because it was just so crass and crude and just _gross,_ that he couldn’t stare at his nether regions for days. Instead of getting hurt at being disregarded so lightly, Nac only found this to be the funniest thing he’d ever seen and never stopped teasing Mylius about “being such a pussy about yanking the rod.”

* * *

Despite what most people hoped for, life did not come with a universal handbook on silly, life-crushing things like love and dreams. Things would have been certainly easier with such a thing, but life was not programmed to be figured out so simply with a book. Most people thought this was unfair and thought complaining was a better way of coping with the lack of a universal handbook.

Mylius was not most people.

What set Mylius Zeramusky apart from the rest of his peers was that he was more of a thinker than a doer. The problem with this, as is usually the case with most thinkers, is that thinking can only get you so far.

Thinking had not done much good for Mylius. In the midst of surviving Keith Fucking Shadis’ Training Regimen from Hell, exams that were surely made by the devil himself, and the food served at mess that made one question his reasons for existing, Mylius found that his crush on Hannah was slowly starting to disappear.

The fact that she was now an item with Franz, who was taller, stronger, and very much capable of knocking Mylius down did not have anything to do with his dwindling feelings.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Nac said beside him, eating his dinner with healthy gusto.

Mylius wondered how anyone could stand to eat the horrible cafeteria food with the same ferocity Nac was currently displaying. “Shut up, Nac,” he said. “At least I wasn’t stupid enough to make Hannah mad at me.”

Nac involuntarily looked over at Tia, who had stopped talking to him after she misinterpreted his conversation with Mikasa as flirting. Nac claimed he didn’t want to hook up with Mikasa at all and he was right. She could, after all, dismantle him easily in a matter of minutes. Seconds, if she was being serious. And besides, Eren just proved to be too big a barrier, standing between his adoptive sister and anyone who tried to put the moves on her.

Of course, leave it to Jean to completely ignore Eren and try his luck at wooing Mikasa anyway.

“Shut it, Mylius. She’ll come around soon. Just give it time.”

Mylius shrugged.

“But it sucks about Hannah, though.” Nac drank some water before continuing. “She might have been good for you.”

Mylius raised an eyebrow. It was uncommon for Nac to be vocally nice to anyone about anything. He was, after all, the sort of guy who expressed his feelings by annoying everyone around him. The sort of guy you’d get if you crossed Eren’s passion with Jean’s innate ability of pissing people off. People except Marco, that is.

“Yeah, right,” Mylius answered, unsure of how to handle the nice boy Nac had transformed into.

“Speaking of girls, you got your eye on anyone yet?”

Mylius supposed it was because of the otherworldly understanding and bond they shared that allowed Nac to guess his thoughts correctly.

“Well…” he started. “There _is_ one person.”

“Person, huh? So not a girl?” Nac smirked and tried to swipe Mylius’ dinner off his plate.

Mylius planted his fork down on his dinner. As bad as the food was here, food was food, and nobody could really afford to go hungry. Not after going through whatever tickled Keith Fucking Shadis’ fucking fancies that day.

“ _Yes_ it’s a girl. I thought we already talked about this.”

“And I thought I told you it was totally okay with me if it wasn’t a girl?” Nac said. “It’s not me, is it?”

“What?! Of course not! Why would I ever –”

“Okay, do me a favor and don’t finish that thought. You don’t have to sound so grossed-out by it.”

Mylius slid his pudding over to Nac by way of apology. Nac accepted it and began to eat it with relish. Mylius suddenly remembered their bet about his chances with Hannah and was thankful Nac didn’t.

“You still owe me tomorrow’s dessert. I knew nothing was going to happen between the two of you.” Nac snickered.

Damn it.

“So, who is it anyway?”

Mylius looked over towards the table on the far end of the mess hall, where Ymir was trying to swipe Christa Renz’s pudding. Mylius had no idea the pudding tasted _that_ good.

Nac followed his gaze and almost dropped his fork. “ _Woah,_ dude. You can’t be serious. Don’t you think you might be setting the bar a bit too high?”

“Not really.”

“Look, I understand you’re bummed about Hannah right now, but that doesn’t mean you have to go pick the next worst thing!”

“What’s so wrong about her?”

“She’s just way out of your league, man. Trust me on this.”

“But it’s love, Nac. You can’t argue with that.”

“Love schmuv. Look what it did for me,” he said, sniffling a little for added effect.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal,” Mylius said. “If you help me get her, then I’ll help you get back with Tia.”

“Oh yeah? And what makes you more knowledgeable about matters of the heart than _me?_ Virgin.”

“I at least know how to talk to girls.” Mylius glared. “And besides, _you’re_ one to talk. Virgin.”

“… That’s totally beside the point.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is – never mind.” Mylius shook his head. “I’ll even give you my dessert for a week if you say yes.”

A hefty price, but sometimes, you had to sacrifice your pudding to get results. As far as he was concerned, Mylius figured he could live without ever knowing how good the mess’ pudding really was.

The pair glanced over at Ymir and Christa, where the former was now in the process of trying to annoy the latter even more than she already had.

Nac fixed Mylius with a steady gaze. “Deal.”

The pair shook hands.

“Leave it to me, man. I’ll set you straight.”

Mylius immediately overturned Nac’s plate on his lap, before Nac could make another crack about his sexuality.

* * *

Nac, Mylius decided, was stupid. The sort of stupid you got if you crossed Eren’s stupid with Jean’s stupid, and multiplied it with the stupidest person in the world’s stupid a thousand times. But perhaps Mylius was stupider than that for even considering enlisting Nac’s services in the first place.

“Ta-da!” Nac proudly declared, waving his arms for dramatic effect. The girl standing next to him yawned and rolled her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed. “Told you I’d handle it!”

Ymir was beginning to wonder why more and more people wanted to see her behind the barracks, where no one could see them. Why was it that when the other trainees had some secret shindig going down, _she_ always had to get involved? What did these fucknuts see in her anyway? Why did they insist on hiding themselves when they weren't even doing anything illegal anyway?

She yawned a bit and squinted at the two cadets. _Amateurs,_ she thought.

“Nac, you stupid shit,” Mylius said, slapping his face in embarrassment for himself and his friend. “That’s not what I meant!”

“What do you mean this isn’t what you meant?” Nac asked. Confusion had been looking for a place to settle down, and decided to do so on his face.

Mylius threw his hands in the air. “I don’t even _like_ Ymir!”

Ymir thought about defending herself to these two, but decided it would be much more fun if she let them go at it instead. She lifted a finger to scratch her ear.

“What ever gave you the idea that I liked her?!”

“Well, I figured you needed a change after that shit with Hannah, you know? Like you maybe wanted a tougher chick or something,” Nac said, still desperately holding on to the idea that he wasn’t wrong. “You need someone to toughen you up anyway.”

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?!”

“You need to get tougher, man! Admit it!”

“And _you_ need to get smarter!”

“Hey, that was low!”

“So’s bringing _Ymir_ of all people here, assuming that I liked her, of all the things!”

Ymir felt that she should be insulted by the way they were talking about her like she was some prize horse, but decided to listen further, so they could dig a deeper burial hole for themselves. Both of the boys were too busy arguing, that they forgot all about Ymir, thus completely failing to notice the way her eyes were now beginning to flash bloody murder.

A few more verbal volleys later, Nac was finally beginning to see the light. “So you mean… you actually like _Christa?_ ” he said, scratching his head. “Dude, that’s not fair! That was the obvious answer and everyone knows the obvious answer’s always the wrong answer!”

Mylius had to do a double-take. “… Is this why you’ve been failing all your exams?”

At this point, Ymir had heard enough. She wiped her hands on her pants and strode forward. Mylius and Nac’s bickering came to a dead stop, as they were finally forced to acknowledge this confident – and now very angry – force of nature Nac had unwittingly brought into their midst.

“Lemme get this straight. _You –_ ” Ymir pointed to Nac. “ – thought he liked me.”

Nac nodded.

“When _you –_ ” she pointed to Mylius. “ – really meant Christa.”

Mylius nodded.

Somehow that just made things worse for Ymir.

Ymir burst out laughing.

Nac and Mylius breathed sighs of relief upon seeing the murderous glint in her eyes disappear.

“You two are the _stupidest_ people I have ever _seen,_ ” she said in between laughs. Nac and Mylius didn’t bother to contradict her and even joined in her laughter. “So _fucking stupid._ ”

The two nodded their heads eagerly, now very much relieved that Ymir was no longer angry at them, and was now making fun of them instead. Somehow, this seemed like a fair trade-off for both boys. Being made fun of by a girl – and by Ymir, no less – was humiliating enough, but they figured that they would rather be emasculated like this, than to have their manhoods literally taken away from them.

It sounded like such a good deal at the time.

Ymir laughed some more.

And then, she beat them up.

* * *

"Nac?" Mylius croaked.

"What." He heard Nac grunt somewhere beside him.

Mylius coughed a bit before continuing. "Remind me never to ask you for help ever again."

"Aw don't be like that."

Ymir was long gone, but Mylius still shuddered at the memory of her terrible fists and her cruel laughter. After the afternoon's events, he wasn't surprised to find out that maybe he didn't like Christa _that_ much after all.

"Nac?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I like Christa anymore."

There was a small, wet gurgle from Nac's crushed body, which Mylius assumed to be laughter. "Oh thank the Walls."

A comfortable silence descended upon the pair and Mylius closed his eyes to bask in this otherworldly understanding and bond he shared with his friend. Silence, after all, was gold, and if Mylius could spend the rest of his days like this, sharing a nice, quiet moment with his best friend Nac Tius, then maybe getting beaten up by Ymir wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Too bad Nac didn't feel the same.

"I guess this means you'll want to yank the rod now, huh?"

"Nac?"

"Yeah, Mylius?"

"Shut up," Mylius said.

Nac shut up.

And this, Mylius decided, was probably the best thing to happen to him all day.


	5. Armin

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

The problem with Armin was that he was in a constant state of paranoia. But you could hardly blame him. After all, years of hands-on experience with the childhood bullying phenomenon will do this to anyone. Thanks to his bullies, every call for “Armin Arlert” was sure to be followed by the words “heretic,” “wimp,” or just about any demeaning name a child of eight could think of. Eight year old children, as Armin learned the hard way, could be very creative with their name-calling sometimes.

Every look thrown his way was meant to judge him; every whisper meant to gossip about him.

But he couldn’t be further from the truth. Because the truth was, Armin Arlert was considered by everyone in the 104th as their little brother. The decision to treat him like this had become so unanimous, that it had become an Unspoken Rule.

_(Unspoken Rule #4: No one is allowed to pick on Armin.)_

The problem was that Armin himself didn’t seem to notice.

Eren didn’t seem to notice anything either, but it was widely assumed that he feigned ignorance so he could continue being Armin’s protector. Eren could be very possessive sometimes.

Armin was aware of _that,_ at least.

* * *

Everyone had their own reasons for treating Armin like a little brother. But for Jean, Thomas, Connie, and Sasha, it was because Armin was so much smarter than all of them. Of course, Jean didn’t want to admit his feelings out loud, but the sentiment was still there.

In fact, they loved and respected Armin so much, that all four of them were crowding around the boy after class, desperate to have him teach them the ways of life. At least, that’s what Connie and Sasha wanted Armin to do. Thomas was just there, because he needed help with his history assignment. Jean tagged along in case Mikasa was with Armin. He was hoping he could entertain her while these three other morons pestered Armin with their questions.

“Armin, man, come on, I know you’re smart and all,” Connie started. “Plus you read all these books with Bertolt. You wanna help me with my muscle training?”

“Why didn’t you go find Bertolt then?” Armin croaked, now backed up against the classroom wall by his four classmates. This was beginning to bring back some very vicious memories of Shiganshina and childhood bullies and mental trauma, and it showed on his face.

“Ah, he’s with Reiner training,” Connie said. “But seriously, man, it’s fine. We’re not gonna judge you or anything.”

“Yeah, Armin!” Sasha said. “You read _so much_ books, so maybe you know something that I don't! And if you know something that I don't, then maybe you'll teach me, and _then_ I'll know something I didn't know before!”

"Sasha, that's kind of the whole point about this learning thing we're doing here." Jean rolled his eyes.

“And I need help with my timelines!” Thomas piped up.

“But why _me?_ ” Armin said. “Lots of other people in camp read books too.”

“Because reasons,” Sasha said. “Come _on,_ Armin, what’s wrong with a little knowledge?”

Armin shuddered. He knew all too well the troubles of having more than a little knowledge.

Jean, now upset with a very glaring lack of Mikasa, scoffed. “This is a waste of time. Let’s go back to the mess hall. I’m getting hungry.”

“Hey, I’m hungry too!” Sasha said. _“Hungry for knowledge.”_

Jean groaned. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.” He glanced over at Armin. “Armin, look, sorry to have bothered you, but we really gotta go. Like right now.”

“But –”

“Connie,” Jean said, jabbing a finger in the small boy’s chest. “You need help with your muscles, go to Reiner. Sasha, you need help with your learning, then try listening to class lectures for once. Thomas, you – what did you need again?”

“My timelines!” he said, waving his notebook in the air for all to see. “See, I don’t _know_ what happened first: the Eighth Expedition outside the walls, the construction of Wall Rose, or the construction of windmills. Armin knows all this stuff, so I thought I’d –”

“Okay, okay,” Jean cut him off. “Thomas can stay. Connie and Sasha, you two are going with me back to the mess hall. Maybe that’s where Mikasa is.”

“What does Mikasa even have to do with –”

_“Shut up, Connie.”_

“Actually, the construction of windmills came in earlier than everything else. People needed them for their crops, you see, so –”

 _“Windmills?”_ Jean yelled. “Who cares about the windmills? I thought it was the _plow_ that helped people with their crops!”

“Well, yes,” Armin said. Beside him, Thomas was furiously taking down notes. “But the windmill is still a very important invention.”

“Windmill, shwindmill,” Connie huffed. “I wanna know how to build up these babies!” He flexed his arms.

Sasha drew out a loaf of bread from her pocket and began to nibble on it. “Hey, Armin, what do you know about mixing corn and soy beans together?”

If it was possible for Armin to shrink even further into himself, then he would have blended in with the wall right now. With his four classmates still crowded up against him, Armin could almost swear he could see his entire childhood flashing right before his eyes. Come to think of it, didn’t one of his childhood bullies have white hair and mean eyes just like Jean?

“If –”

At Armin’s squeak, all four heads immediately turned to look at him. None of them were raising any fists. Armin took this as a good sign and went on.

“If you need any help with your muscles,” he said to Connie. “Then I’m not really the best person to ask. You can’t just rely on books for things like those.”

Armin turned to Sasha. “I don’t read any cookbooks, but if you go to the kitchens, I’m sure the cooks will be happy to help!” Then, he turned to Thomas. “If you want, I can stay with you the whole afternoon and help you with your history.”

Only Thomas was smiling at the end of Armin’s spiel. He was the only one who got his help after all.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Jean started, forgetting that he wasn’t really there to ask for Armin’s help in the first place. “What about me?”

But before Armin could answer, a new voice brought the chatter in the room to a halt.

“What’s going on here?”

Everyone swiveled around to look at the open doorway, which was now occupied by a very vexed-looking Mikasa Ackerman.

“Armin, are they bothering you?”

Everyone looked at Armin and belatedly realized that they were still crowding him up against the wall.

“Ah, no, Mikasa, they just wanted to –”

“Jean’s fault!” Sasha screeched, and with her lightning-quick reflexes, dashed out the window, dragging Connie and Armin with her.

“No, wait –” Jean looked to Thomas for help.

But all he could see of Thomas was his lower half trying to squeeze itself through the same window Sasha darted through, his self-preservation instincts instantly taking over.

Jean slowly turned back to Mikasa, who was still staring at him icily, as if Sasha had never happened. Jean now knew what they meant when they said that your whole life flashed before your eyes before you died. He had no idea who 'they' were, but they were also certainly right about seeing some kind of light before you punched out of the world.

The light actually came from the sun outside, but Jean didn’t need to know that.

Mikasa made her way towards Jean, who took a step back. This went on for some time, until he felt his back hit the wall.

Now sweating and fidgeting in a terrified haze, Jean raised his hands in self-defense. Mikasa glared at him, the promise of seven hells now emanating from her in a cruel aura of hurt.

“A-ah, Mikasa! Have I ever told you how _absolutely_ beautiful you – no, wait!”

* * *

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, why don’t you,” Jean grumbled, trying to wave Connie away and make him stop laughing.

He didn’t stop laughing.

“Connie, you twerp, you were _there_ and you left me behind, I’m gonna get you for this _see if I don’t –_ ”

“What, why me?!” Connie demanded and pointed at Armin. “Armin was there too! Why aren’t you on his case?”

“Armin’s different!” Jean retorted. “He’s not laughing, for one thing!”

“How do you know he isn’t laughing on the inside?!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard – even from you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

Armin sat, transfixed by the sight. In his experience, whenever two people were having a row about him, it was usually about his heretic tendencies. And more usually, Eren was one of the people arguing.

But training camp was slowly turning into a different thing entirely. Here, Armin was forced to review and revise everything he’d experienced until now. Nobody here was giving him any heat for knowing too much. Oddly enough, they liked him for it, as proven by Thomas earlier, who was so thrilled with Armin’s help, that he promised to give him his share of dessert later on.

That had never happened to Armin before.

And now, here were Jean and Connie arguing about him, but not _about_ him, which was totally unlike his past experiences with his childhood bullies.  

“Ho, lads!” Reiner boomed and took a seat beside Armin. “What’s all the fuss about?”

There was a slight delay in Armin’s response, as this was the first time he’d ever heard someone address anyone as ‘lads.’

“Jean and Connie won’t stop fighting.”

“Well, yeah, I can see that,” Reiner said. “What’re they fighting about this time?”

“Connie won’t stop laughing at Jean.”

“Oi, Connie!” Reiner yelled. “Stop laughing at Jean! You know he hates that!”

Upon being reminded of what he was doing, Connie stopped arguing with Jean and bent over laughing. “Mi –” he sputtered, struggling to get the words out between laughs. “Mikasa did a piledriver on Jean today!”

Reiner burst out laughing.

 _“Did not!”_ Jean protested violently, not so eager to have his manhood mangled so ungracefully. “She almost broke my arm, though, that’s what she did.”

Reiner did not stop laughing.

“I thought you were telling Connie to stop?!” Jean demanded, waving his sore arm at Reiner.

“Piledriver!” Reiner guffawed. “I guess Eren and I aren’t the only guys to get their asses kicked by the girls here, huh?”

“I did _not_ get my ass kicked,” Jean scoffed and crossed his arms. “She just caught me off-guard, that’s all.”

“Piledriver!” Connie laughed.

 _“She_ _twisted my arm!_ ” Jean yelled, now visibly frustrated.

Armin was just relieved that Jean only had his arm twisted by Mikasa. Larger men than him had gone through worse and did not live to tell the tale.

“We should probably stop laughing now,” Connie said, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.

“I bet Armin never had to get beaten up by Mikasa,” Jean groused.

Armin shook his head. “Not really, no.”

“Maybe it was ‘cos he spent more time hitting the books than pissing her off,” Connie mused.

Reiner nodded approvingly. “A most worthy endeavor, Armin.”

The three boys stared at him blankly. Connie was the first to break the silence. “Hey, Reiner, why are you talking like an old man?”

“You… you don’t think I’m weird?” Armin asked, surprised that Reiner hadn’t called him out on his hobby.

“Of course I think you’re weird,” Jean said.

Reiner slapped him upside the head. “What’s up, has anyone been calling you weird?” he asked. “Except Jean, that is. Already fixed him for you.”

Jean glared at Reiner and rubbed the growing sore spot on his head.

“It’s – it’s not that…” Armin said, now starting to get worried about all the injuries Jean had already received because of him.

Connie elbowed him in the side. “Anyone calls you weird, Armin, we got your back,” he said.

Jean laughed out loud. “Yeah, sure, Connie. You be the bait, while Reiner and I take care of the name-caller.”

Reiner slapped him upside the head again.

“Will you _quit_ that?!” Jean roared, thoroughly pissed off at Reiner’s newfound penchant of looking out for the smaller guys.

“You don’t need to do that. It’s fine, really,” Armin said, talking about Reiner and his newfound habit of giving Jean brain damage.

“Don’t worry, man, it’s cool,” Connie said, talking about their newfound hobby of looking out for Armin.

“No, really, I’m fine. You don’t need to do so much for my sake.”

“Screw that,” Reiner grinned. “Anyone calls you any names or gives you a hard time, you come to us. We’ll set ‘em straight.”

“Yes, well thank you, _really,_ but Eren –”

“Screw him,” Jean scowled. “He gives you a hard time, Armin, you come to me. _I’ll_ set him straight.”

“Yeah, and besides,” Connie scoffed. “Eren and Mikasa aren’t going to be around all the time, right?”

“Well, actually –”

“That’s what we’re here for!” he continued, cutting off Armin completely. “It’s a win-win for both of us, y’know. We get practice for protecting the King as bonafide members of the Military Police, while you get a little gang of your own.”

“But I don’t really want you to hurt any –”

“I always wanted to be in a gang,” Connie went on, momentarily forgetting that he was still talking to Armin. “If only Ma and Pa could see me now.” He sighed wistfully.

“Just leave it,” Reiner said, clapping a hand on Armin’s shoulder. “You’re stuck with us now, whether you like it or not.”

“B-but, are you sure?” Armin asked, eyes wide. He had no idea what he had done to force these boys to watch his back, but he was certain that he needed to stop doing it right away – whatever it was.

“Sure we’re sure,” Connie said. “Are _you_ sure?”

“Well, it’s not that…”

“Come on, Armin, it’ll be fun.” Reiner grinned.

“It’s just… Eren won’t like it,” Armin explained, trying the Eren excuse again, hoping it would drive them away. “He’ll get angry.”

Jean scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That prick’s always angry.”

“Always angry at you, you mean,” Connie snickered.

Reiner quickly intercepted Jean before he could smack Connie upside the head.

“It’s really nice of you, though. No one’s ever done this for me before.”

“Look, you need us, alright,” Jean said. He held up his fingers. “You’re slow, you’re weak, you don’t have much stamina, and you’re pretty much fucked every time we get physical exercises.”

Connie paled. “H-hey, isn’t that too harsh?”

But Jean was on a roll and would not stop. “Basically, your only strength’s that you’re hella smart, which is scary too, ‘cos smart guys trump strong guys every time.”

“Thanks… I think?”

“Point is, you need us,” Jean said and nodded briskly, obviously pleased with himself. “When you get stuck somewhere or if you need help with any of the training, then Reiner and I’ll be there to help you out.”

Reiner nodded sagely. “Yeah, well, that’s the only thing Jean’s been right about so far.”

Jean pointedly ignored that comment.

Connie began to nod also, but was now slowly beginning to realize that Jean hadn’t included him in his earlier comment. _“Hey, wait a minute –”_

“Well, nobody else besides Eren and Mikasa ever went out of their way to do this for me,” Armin said, now beginning to resign himself to his fate. But good intentions were what they were, and Armin was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even if that gift horse was Jean. “Thanks, I don’t know how to repay all of you.”

“How ‘bout giving us the answers to the next test?” Connie smirked, forgetting to start a feud with Jean. “Since you’re so grateful and all.”

Reiner slapped him upside the head.

Jean, glad that he wasn’t being whacked this time, did the same.

“ _Ow!_ Geez, can’t you guys take a joke around here anymore!”

“So much for being such a genius.”

“It was a _joke,_ dammit!”

“Psst… hey. Armin.”

Armin turned away from a guffawing Reiner and a fuming Connie to face a nervous Jean.

“About that whole business with us watching your back…” he was twiddling his thumbs.

“… Yes?”

“Uh… you _will_ tell Mikasa about this, won’t you?”


	6. Girl Talk

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

“I have something to tell you.”

To her credit, if Mina Carolina was shocked at Annie’s effort of starting a conversation with her, she didn’t show it. Instead, she took a bite out of her dinner and nodded at her friend.

“Okay.”

“It’s very important.”

“So tell me.”

Here, Annie faltered. She swept a quick glance over the rest of her classmates, all of whom were engrossed in their dinners. This was understandable. After all, if you weren’t eating during dinner time, then that only meant that you either didn’t want your dinner, or you couldn’t eat your dinner.

Every abled-body wanted dinner. Hence, the engrossed eating, even if the rations served here were nothing like anything that was served back home. Anybody’s mother could take last _month’s_ leftovers and cook it all, and it would still taste better than whatever they gave to the cadets here.

Satisfied that nobody seemed to be eavesdropping on their conversation, the only thing left for Annie to do was start it. Now faced with the daunting task of carrying on an actual conversation with another live human being, she found that she was way out of her depth in this department. Her father had taught her to exchange blows, after all, not words.

She took a sip of her drink, even if she wasn’t thirsty. She ate a little bit of her dinner, even if she wasn’t hungry. She cleared her throat, even if it wasn’t itchy.

Seeing Annie become so nervous so very quickly was very amusing, but that was only if you weren’t Annie.

Finally, she looked at Mina Carolina straight in the eye, who had been waiting patiently, despite Annie’s uncomfortable stalling.

“I’m… different.” Annie managed.

Mina Carolina’s blank, yet prompting look forced Annie to elaborate.

“Like Bertolt and Reiner.”

Unconsciously, Annie lifted her gaze over to where Bertolt and Reiner were sitting next to each other. Every now and then, Reiner would stop eating to say something, while Bertolt would nod in response. Across them, Connie would give a reply of his own, but it was obvious to the keen observer that Bertolt, while less chatty than his companions, clearly paid more attention whenever Reiner would start talking.

“Like Bertolt and Reiner…” Mina Carolina repeated, mimicking Annie and looking over to the other table as well.

While gesturing wildly in one of his spiels, Reiner had accidentally elbowed the side of Bertolt’s head.

“But I don’t...”

In an attempt to apologize, Reiner piled some of his own food onto Bertolt’s plate, but Bertolt wasn’t paying any attention. Bertolt was staring straight ahead, trying oh-so-hard not to make eye-contact with his guffawing tablemates, who found the episode hilarious.

Bertolt was blushing and sweating profusely.

“Oh!”

Mina Carolina’s eyes brightened instantly in recognition.

She looked back at Annie and her eyes started to sparkle even more in light of her realization.

_“Oh.”_

Annie nodded stiffly and thought that if she stared any more into her friend’s eyes, she might go blind.

“Like Ymir too. Maybe.”

Annie was not sure why she said this. Maybe for further clarification in case Mina Carolina got the wrong idea? Or perhaps it was for the sole purpose of taking all guilty parties down with her?

No matter. Her words had an immediate effect on Mina Carolina, who immediately glanced at Ymir tugging on Christa’s hair, before locking her gaze back on Annie.

Annie was trying not to look into Mina Carolina’s eyes, but that was only because the sparkle that had been there before had increased tenfold.

Mina Carolina clapped her hands gleefully. “That’s _wonderful,_ Annie!”

Annie, who had been expecting an emotional outburst - fear, anger, or even outright malice - widened her eyes in surprise. “… It is?”

“Of course it is!” If it was any possible for Mina Carolina to jump higher in her seat, she would start flying.

“But I thought you wouldn’t –”

“Wouldn’t what? Understand?” When she saw Annie’s stiff nod, Mina Carolina’s expression softened. “Annie, I’m your _friend._ And as your friend, I’m supposed to accept you for whatever you are.”

Annie’s cold, frigid heart warmed up instantly at Mina Carolina’s words. She’d never had a friend before, and even if her father warned her against them and all their possible betrayals, Annie Leonhart was finding out very quickly that it was just impossible to stay away from a girl like Mina Carolina. She was filled with gratitude for having known someone like Mina Carolina, someone who had immediately accepted her with no hesitation at all, in spite of who she really was.

“I thought you would kill me.”

_“What?”_ Mina Carolina almost screamed. “I would never!”

“But it’s how everyone else would react if they knew what I was,” Annie said.

“It’s a part of who you are. It’s _you._ I would never kill anyone for being themselves,” Mina Carolina replied.

Annie nodded and bowed her head to try and stop her heart from leaping out of her throat in a fit of enthusiastic glee. Was this what friendship felt like?

“Wait ‘till Hannah and the other girls hear about this!” Mina Carolina had resumed her squealing. “They’ll be _so_ happy!”

Horror and dread immediately flooded Annie’s veins. She looked up sharply and fixed a long, stern glare at her companion. “No one must know,” she said. “Please.”

Her friend understood quickly and completely, perhaps also because when Annie looked at people like _that_ , they were never usually the same afterwards. “O-of course. This’ll be our little secret.”

Annie both hated and lived for that word. It was a big part of who she was, yet in a moment of unguarded weakness, she’d gone and told someone else about it. Was this the right thing to do?

She had to keep her cool in times like these, she knew that. She also knew that it was wiser to trust no one else but herself, because at least that way, she wouldn’t get hurt. That was what her father had told her.

But Mina Carolina would never hurt her.

Bertolt and Reiner might, even if only by accident, but Mina Carolina wouldn’t.

Would she?

A soft, warm hand on her shoulder shook Annie out of her thoughts. She looked up again at her companion, who was smiling widely, with no visible hint of malice on any of her features. She was not going to use Annie’s secret for her own personal gain, of this Annie was certain.

“Hey, it’s your secret and if you don’t want to tell anyone else about it, then it’s fine,” the pig-tailed cadet started saying. “It was very nice of you to trust me with it, though.”

Annie nodded. She would trust Mina Carolina with her life, if it came to that.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll get around to telling Hannah and the others about it anyway, won’t you?”

Annie nodded again, even if she had no intention of doing so.

“Oh, I’m so proud of you, Annie. Admission is always the first step.”

_First step to what?_

Annie nodded her head. It was probably best to not ask any questions.

“But if Ymir’s… you know,” Mina Carolina shrugged, hoping Annie understood. “You know, like… _that_ … then is Christa the same?”

Annie looked over at Christa, who was pouting up at Ymir, who was still tugging her hair.

Annie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” Mina Carolina said, her eyes dulling just the slightest bit. “Poor Ymir.”

Annie wasn’t so sure what she meant by that, but nodded anyway.

“But let’s get back to you!”

Annie raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re just like Ymir…”

Annie continued to stare.

“… Does that mean you’ve never liked a boy before?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we're clear: Annie was talking about her Titan shifting abilities, while Mina Carolina thought she was talking about... something else. Don't ask me why Annie would tell Mina Carolina about her Titan shifting abilities.


	7. Bertolt

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

It did not take long for the males of the 104th trainee class to see that Bertolt Fubar, quiet giant and frequent companion of Reiner Braun, had some sort of magical ability. It was first discovered completely by accident by Connie and Jean on the one and only morning they'd waken up ahead of everyone else. Of course, Jean being Jean, refused to believe that such a thing was possible at first.

But after three days of careful observing, the duo discovered that Bertolt Fubar, did in fact, have some sort of magical ability.

He could forecast the day’s weather while sleeping.

“If you look close enough,” Connie said to the boys huddled around Bertolt’s bed. “You can almost see all of life’s questions being answered by this one pose.”

“That’s stupid,” Jean scoffed, ever the wet blanket. “You can’t answer questions about the weather _and_ life at the same time. It’s impossible.”

“Your _face_ is stupid,” Eren sneered. “It totally is possible. You just need to have the right pose.”

“And how would _you_ know, Jaeger?” Jean shot back. “You ever pose like that in your sleep before?”

“I never knew you were so interested in my sleeping habits, shit-face.”

“Dream on, shit-breath!”

“Where’s Reiner anyway?” Marco asked, mercifully sparing everyone from an early morning rumble between Jean and Eren. “If anyone should know anything about Bertolt’s sleeping habits, it’s him.”

“In the shower with Franz,” Thomas answered.

There was nothing but silence in response to that statement, while everybody mulled over his answer.

“Dude, that sounded so wrong,” Nac finally said.

“They woke up really early too,” Thomas elaborated, even if nobody prompted him to do so. “I think they do this everyday.”

“Even worse.” Connie shuddered, trying to will the mental images away.

“It’s still strange to think that Bertolt of all people can predict the weather,” Mylius said, effectively derailing the topic of conversation away from Thomas’ Uncomfortable Truths.

“I know. This is the seventh time this month he’s got the weather right,” Connie said. Then, he quickly added, “Not that I’ve been checking him out everyday or anything.”

“Right.” Jean smirked.

“It doesn’t make sense, though,” Armin said, ever the shining beacon of logic among the 104th trainees. “There’s lots of clues outside about the weather, if you look really closely. Like the wind’s direction, the clouds’ formations, or even the fresh dew on the grass. Bertolt being able to tell the weather by posing just doesn’t make any logical sense.”

Again, total silence fell upon the boys in response to this statement.

“It’s too _early_ for this science shit,” Nac whined. Grumbles and nods of approval backed him up, but were quickly silenced by Eren’s murderous glare.

“It’s fascinating, though,” Mylius said, once again bringing everyone back to the topic at hand.

“I know. It’s like I can look at him all day,” Connie said. Then, he quickly added, “Not that I actually _want to_ or anything.”

“Right.” Jean smirked.

Just then, the windows slammed open with a loud burst, eliciting high-pitched shrieks that may or may not have come from Jean and Eren.

“I have come to see The Bertolt,” Sasha announced, nibbling on a piece of bread.

“Sasha!” Connie greeted and bounded over to the window.

“Is it true? Is it true?” she asked everyone, breaking off a piece of her bread to share with Connie. “Can he really predict the weather? What’s today’s forecast?”

“Nothing but sun,” Marco said, pointing to Bertolt. He’d been blissfully sleeping on, despite the disturbances. “But I think this is the first time I’ve seen his left foot bend that way…”

“Amazing,” Sasha said, peering closer at Bertolt. “It’s like a miracle of life or something.”

“Oh no!” Thomas said, shaking his head. “A miracle of life’s when a baby gets born! I should know, I mean my sister gave birth before I enrolled here, right? I saw the baby come out and everything! Even helped pull it out myself!”

At this, a good number of the male trainees paled visibly and stared wide-eyed at the oblivious Thomas.

“You mean you were actually _there?_ ” Jean sputtered.

“You _saw_ it happen?” Eren added, his voice getting higher and higher by the second. “And you _helped?!_ ”

“Sure! Why not? It was my sister after all.”

“But what about a _doctor?_ ” Connie said, still not believing anything his ears were hearing. “You called for one, right?”

“Sure we did! But there was a pretty bad snowstorm at the time and the doctor got seriously delayed. So, I had no choice but to help.”

“That’s so _cool!_ ” Sasha cheered, nothing but open admiration flowing out of her eyes.

She wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“How did you do it?” Mylius, who had begun developing an alarming fascination for blood lately, asked, also genuinely curious.

“Did you use any tools?” Armin asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

“Please don’t answer that,” Connie whimpered, eyes shining with tears.

“Well, there were these pliers –”

“It’s too early for this!” Nac yelled, grabbed a towel, and made a mad dash for the showers. Everyone else followed suit, leaving Thomas, Sasha, Armin, Mylius, Bertolt, and Eren in the bedroom.

Bertolt was still blissfully unaware of everything that was going on around him, his snores peacefully telling the entire world that it could go by without him today. Eren had passed out long ago, after he’d imagined a manic Thomas laughing madly while swinging a screaming fetus fresh from its mother’s belly over his head.

“I got those pliers, okay.” Thomas went on as if nothing had happened. “And moved them out of the way, ‘cause everyone knows that’s an accident waiting to happen.”

Sasha, Armin, and Mylius nodded sagely.

“I asked her to open up, so’s I can help the baby out. And then, I reached in and –”

“Hey, Thomas!” Reiner boomed, marching in straight from the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist. “What’s the deal, sending all the guys to the showers this early? Keith Fucking Shadis'll have to keep you here after graduation if you can pull this off everyday!”

Sasha, Armin, and Mylius groaned, annoyed at yet another interruption of Thomas’ story. 

“I don’t know about that, Reiner,” he shrugged. “Maybe if I told them more stories about my sister and my new little nephew…”

“Ah, so that’s what everyone was so scared of,” Franz laughed, wiping his hair dry. “No wonder everyone was so pale.”

“Explains the stampede.” Reiner nodded.

Thomas was aghast. “But why would _anyone_ get so scared of babies? They’re so cute.”

“Beats me.” Mylius shrugged.

“What’s Sasha doing here anyway?” Reiner asked, pulling on a pair of pants.

“I have come to see The Bertolt,” she announced, not the least bit perturbed by Reiner and Franz’s bare chests.

“Ah, Bertolt.” Reiner nodded in understanding. “All the guys in here’re talking about his weather forecasting abilities.”

“I know!” she said, leaping up and down excitedly. “Marco said a sunny day’s ahead of us and look! No cloud in the sky! Where did you find him, Reiner? He’s _amazing!_ ”

“I’d say it’s too early to believe that right away,” Armin said, looking out the window. “The day’s just started, after all.”

“Exactly right, Armin,” Reiner said, slapping him on the back. “The day’s just started, which means Keith Fucking Shadis should be expecting us out of here in twenty minutes.”

“That’s right,” Franz agreed. “You three go hit the showers now. You too, Sasha.”

“Aww fine.” She pouted. “I’ll see you later!”

“I’ll take care of Bertolt,” Reiner said, waving off Thomas, Mylius, and Armin. But the trio didn’t seem to mind, as Mylius and Armin were pestering Thomas for more details on his sister’s pregnancy episode.

“Oi, Bertolt,” Reiner said, slapping his friend’s face with his damp towel. Franz grimaced in sympathy. “We’re gonna be late if you don’t get up.”

Bertolt dozed on. Franz got ready to hand Reiner his own damp towel in case it was needed.

“Bertolt! Titans! On the wall!” Reiner yelled.

That did the trick.

Bertolt immediately sprung to life, but because he was so tall and because he had been sleeping on the bottom bunk this entire time, he rammed his head into the bed above him.

Franz winced in sympathy.

Eren, who’d been passed out on the floor all this time, also sprung to life, eyes wild and blazing. _“Titans?!”_ he yelled. “Where? Armin, there’s Titans, we gotta go _now!_ ” He ran into the showers... and right into the rest of the 104th male trainees, all of whom were still not finished with their showers. This meant that they were all still dripping wet and were not wearing any clothes.

Eren promptly fainted again.

Bertolt, upon seeing the naked swarm of other teenage boys, also fainted back on his bed.

Franz put his towel away and took careful care not to look at his other naked classmates.

Reiner was laughing like a maniac.

Keith Fucking Shadis, who’d barged into the room to wake up the rest of the 104th's ladies, was not amused.

“What the fuck is _this?!_ ” he yelled. “Do you think we’re playing around? Do you? I fucking think not! One hundred morning laps for everybody, as soon as you all finish jerking each other off in here! _Do you hear me?!_ ”

Everyone, who'd been frozen stiff throughout their trainer's tirade, nodded vigorously and were lucky Keith Fucking Shadis did not ask them to fucking repeat themselves. He marched out of the room and slammed the door on his way out.

Everyone turned to glare at Reiner, who was still working very hard to keep his laughter in. He was not succeeding.

Franz grimaced in sympathy. “You’re in trouble now, Reiner.”

“Worth it,” the muscled cadet answered, his laughter now subsiding. He wrung his towel again and prepared to hit Bertolt’s face with it to wake him back up. “So worth it.”

* * *

“Reiner, why is everyone looking at me like that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. They were just watching you sleep.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m pretty sure they enjoyed it anyway.”

_“W-what?!”_

“Eat your breakfast, Bertolt.”


	8. Thomas Wagner

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

Everyone dreaded introductions, but no one dreaded them more than Jean Kirschtein.

After that memorable introduction Keith Fucking Shadis had forced them all to go through, Jean decided that there was nothing he hated more than telling everyone who he was, where he was from, and why he was here. Jean was a private person and didn’t like talking honestly to people, unless it didn’t involve him directly. This was why he was always so quick to broadcast what he thought about everything and everybody, but was just as reluctant to share private details about his life.

The last time he’d shared something intimate about his life, like his hopes and dreams, he’d gotten a fucking headbutt from no less than Keith Fucking Shadis.

As such, Jean Kirschtein’s tendency of being a prick to everyone was understandable.

But if there was one other thing that the infamous boot camp introductions had revealed, it was that Jean wasn’t the only one there who’d come from Trost.

His name was Thomas Wagner, and he was, quite possibly, the friendliest and nicest person of the 104th. He was a friend to all who met him and greeted everyone with a smile, regardless of who they were. The only problem was, he was from Trost. And for Jean Kirschtein, fellow Trost-dweller, being associated with such a nice guy like Thomas was doing some serious damage to his street cred.

There was also the matter of Thomas’ penchant for sharing the most uncomfortable details about his life to anyone who was listening. One day, he’d shared the story of his nephew’s first birthday, right down to the most grisly detail. On another day, it was the story of his grandfather’s heart attack.

For such a private person like Jean, such openness was impossible to fathom. How did he feel, sharing so many intimate life details to complete strangers? How did he deal with everyone’s reactions to his life stories? Why did he do this? Did he want to gain more friends? Were all of his stories even true to begin with? And what the hell was going on with those sideburns?

These were the questions that plagued Jean’s mind every time he saw Thomas cheerfully talking to their other classmates like they’d known each other for years. Jean, on the other hand, was extremely frank and picked a lot of fights with everyone. Jean was most definitely not the friendliest and nicest person of the 104th, and because of this, his reputation had suffered.

This was just fine with Jean.

“Who needs friends anyway,” he snarled to himself one day. “Only thing I need to do here’s get into the Military Police, that’s all.”

“Hey, I’d like to join the Military Police too!”

Jean leaped seventy feet into the air, and when he landed and regained control of his heartbeat, he came face-to-face with a smiling Thomas.

“Thomas!” Jean exclaimed angrily, his hand still on his heart.

“Jean!” Thomas replied enthusiastically, mistaking Jean’s outburst for a friendly greeting.

“Quit sneaking up on people like that!” Jean yelled. “It’s rude!” He conveniently ignored the fact that he was being rude as well by shouting at people all the time.

But Thomas was unfazed by all the yelling. “Sorry, sorry!” he said. “I just couldn’t help overhearing you, especially since we’re both hoping for the same thing. I guess you’re my rival then!” He punched Jean’s shoulder playfully in a show of comradeship.

Jean considered punching Thomas in the face in a show of pent-up aggression, but changed his mind when he finished counting to ten.

“Good luck to you then,” Jean said instead. And he’d genuinely meant it too. Thomas really did need all the luck he could get if he wanted to crack the Top Ten.

“Thanks, you too!” Thomas laughed. “I guess Trost isn’t the only similarity we share now, huh?”

Jean shuddered. What would people say if a guy like him started palling around with a guy like Thomas?

He imagined his mother back home and her endless efforts of making her only son feel like the center of the universe, when all he wanted to do was hide in the background.

Jean shuddered again. His mother must never know of Thomas Wagner’s existence.

“By the way, I thought I saw your mom over at the Carlos market last weekend!” Thomas’ habit of speaking with exclamation points was seriously beginning to unnerve Jean. “So I went over and said hi. She was happy to see me, but it was obvious she was looking for you. Jean, I’m being serious here when I say you need to go see her once in a while. It’s no good staying here at the barracks all the time!”

“You… you saw my mom?”

“Yeah! She was really nice too. She offered to buy me this loaf of bread Carlos is so famous for – you know the kind, right? – but I said no thank you! I told her to save the money for someone who really needs it, like you!”

“Uh… thanks?”

Dammit, Jean thought. Well, there went his chance of hiding Thomas Wagner’s existence from his mother forever.

“No problem! You know us Trost boys have to stick together. If we don’t stand up for each other, then who will?”

Jean shuddered again. Which god should he blame for this cruel joke of lumping him with Thomas as a 'Trost boy'?

“Listen, Thomas, I really gotta go.” Jean tried to sidestep around Thomas, but the other boy imitated his movements.

“Well, that’s okay! Where’re you going? Maybe we’re going the same way!”

Jean glared, but its effect was lost and swallowed up by Thomas never-ending optimism. “Nowhere. Bed. I’m going to bed.”

“But it’s still so early!”

“Well, I’m really tired, okay.”

“But the day just started! We need to get out, Jean! Soak in all that sunshine!”

“Jesus, Thomas, what will it take for you to let me _lea –_ ”

“Jean! Thomas!”

Both Trost boys looked up to find Marco Bodt waving at them. Jean’s eyes lit up and immediately began to admire his savior.

“Marco! Just the guy I was looking for!” Jean all but yelled and dashed out to meet his new best friend.

“Really?” Both Marco and Thomas looked at Jean with puzzled expressions on their faces. Jean’s smile was only growing wider and wider, not unlike that of a man who was suddenly presented with an unexpected feast after being starved for days. Manic wasn’t quite the right adjective for the smile that crept onto Jean’s face. It was something more than that, and it unnerved the two boys greatly.

Neither offered any comment, however, as they didn’t want to crush Jean’s fragile self-esteem.

“Man, I’m hungry!” Jean said loudly, so that Thomas might hear. “Marco, let’s go hit the mess hall, what do you say?”

“Mess hall?” Thomas asked and scratched his head. “But I thought you said –”

 _“Mess hall!”_ Jean screeched. “I said mess hall! Geez, Thomas, no wonder you’re having such a hard time with our lessons, you don't know how to listen.”

“Yeah… I guess so,” Thomas said, although he swore he’d heard Jean say ‘bed’ instead of ‘mess’ a few minutes ago.

Marco glanced at Jean reproachfully and didn’t offer any comment, as his disappointed look was already enough to make Jean guilty.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Jean marched off in the complete opposite direction of the mess hall, without waiting for anyone to reply.

Marco smiled apologetically at Thomas for the inconvenience before he was dragged away by Jean. He’d almost forgotten about Marco in his euphoria at finally getting away from Thomas.

Thomas just smiled back, and before the duo’s smile exchange could go any further, Jean and Marco had disappeared down the hall. Just as they disappeared, Sasha bounded down the same hall and dragged Thomas away to help get Connie, who’d gotten stuck in a window. Needless to say, Thomas promptly forgot about Jean’s abrupt exit and focused all his energies into retrieving a panicking Connie from his predicament.

However, the Trost boys’ interactions would keep up during the 104th's entire first year, with Thomas pestering Jean about the most minute details about Trost and Jean avoiding him completely. In his cheerful obliviousness, Thomas had failed to notice Jean’s mighty efforts to stay as far away from him as possible.

“Hi, Jean!”

“Go away!”

“Okay!”

And so it went for many more weeks to come.

Eventually, Thomas’ initial excitement at having found a fellow Trost native lost steam, as he moved on to new friendships with his other classmates. Jean, while initially ecstatic at having finally, _finally_ avoided all of Thomas’ advances, found that he was now stuck with Marco Bodt, who was just as friendly and nice as Thomas, but less obnoxious. Jean decided to hang around with Marco, because as much as he refused to admit it, he felt guilty about leaving Thomas hanging out to dry.

Marco was just happy that Jean seemed to be trying his hardest to be a good and decent person.

“Don’t get near Thomas, Marco.”

“Oh come on, Jean. He’s not that bad.”

“Stop laughing. I’m only saying this because it’s for your own good.”

“Whatever you say, Jean. I think he’s trying to be nice.”

“I said stop laughing.”

“You should try being nice too. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Shut up, Marco.”

“Well, okay then, if that’s what you want.”

“No, wait! I’m sorry! You know I didn’t mean it! Marco - !”

And so it went: the two Trost natives drifted further and further apart, and neither boy was particularly distressed about it. There would be other encounters and conversations throughout their three-year stay in military boot camp, but these would never last long and never went beyond the personal boundary Jean was insistent on keeping.

After the battle at their hometown, however; after the corpses were cleaned off the streets, after all the dead had been burned in a ceremonial fire, and after their names were etched in people’s hearts for all eternity, Jean would begin to feel a profound sense of loneliness, although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why.


	9. Irwin's Subordinates: Drinking

_(Timeline: After Graduation)_

“See, what I want to know is – Levi, you’re Humanity’s Strongest,” Miike drawled, pointing to the Lance Corporal.

“Not that I asked for the stupid title anyway.” Levi grumbled into his glass.

“Right. What I want to know is – ” Miike paused to sip his drink. “Are you, Levi, esteemed Lance Corporal of the glorious Scouting Legion, a virgin?”

Hanji fell out of her chair laughing.

Levi spat out his drink.

“You say that again, you asshole, and you’re going to wish you never did.”

“You heard me,” Miike said. “Have you ever done it?”

“Done the deed?” Hanji added.

“Rolled around in the sheets?”

“Taken a girl to bed?”

“Taken a girl home?”

“Had an orgasm?”

“ _Given_ an orgasm?”

“Ate out the – ”

“Alright, fine! I’m a virgin! Happy now?” Levi yelled, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

“Well, that was surprisingly easy.” Miike laughed. “Hanji, I think Levi’s drunk.”

“And a virgin!” Hanji guffawed. “Humanity’s strongest – a virgin!”

“I don’t see what’s so goddamned funny about that.” Levi huffed and crossed his arms. “Who the fuck cares if I haven’t done it before?”

“That’s too bad.” Irwin said, coming into the room. “Now no one will ever know if what they say about short men is true.”

Hanji fell out of her chair laughing at Levi’s expression.

“What _do_ they say about short men?” Miike asked, pouring some alcohol into a shot glass and giving it to Irwin.

“That we’re fucking short,” Levi sneered.

“Oh, really?” Irwin took the shot glass from Miike. “I’m sure that’s not what they all say.”

“Shut the fuck up, Irwin.”

“That’s right, blame it all on your Commander.” Irwin took a sip from the shot glass. “Why are we discussing Levi’s virginity?”

“Miike’s idea!” Hanji chirped, pointing a finger at him.

“The fucking prick.” Levi glared at Miike. “So what’s the deal, you shit? Feel like answering your own question some time?”

Miike shrugged and took a sip from his shot glass.

“Well, that’s just _classy_ of you to leave us all hanging like that.”

“Well, _I’m_ still a virgin, if anyone’s interested,” Hanji said, drowning her drink in one gulp.

“What, really?” Irwin said, surprised. “It’s because you’re too busy for it, isn’t it?”

“Nah. I’m saving it for the right man!” Hanji grinned.

“And knowing you, shitty glasses, I’m guessing it’ll take a while before he comes along.”

“What do you mean knowing me?”

Levi sighed dramatically, drowned his own shot, and raised his finger. “He has to put up with your Titan fetish, number one. Number two, he’ll have to deal with all your filth and experiments. And after that –”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, short ass. Guy like you, I bet you have a laundry list of _criteria_ for an ideal mate.”

“Explains why he’s still a virgin.” Miike snickered. He started pouring new rounds into everyone’s shot glasses.

Levi looked offended. “Sex is _filthy_ and _disgusting_ , and I for one – ”

“Uh-huh.” Miike did not look convinced.

“For all you know, Levi, you could be my ideal guy!” Hanji said. “You put up with me everyday, for one thing.”

“And what a pair we’d make, huh?” Levi replied, taking a sip from his glass. “Senior officers from the Scouting Legion, rolling around in bed like teenagers.”

“You’d like it,” Hanji countered.

“I might,” Levi shot back. “Why not Irwin?”

“Nah. Commander’s too uptight.”

“Still in the room, guys,” Irwin reminded.

“Point,” Levi said, agreeing with Hanji. “Why not Miike?”

Hanji snorted. “Miike has no appreciation for science.”

“Oh, but I do appreciate you, Hanji,” Miike crooned and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Hanji gave him a thumbs-up. “You’re on the shortlist.”

Irwin did a double-take. “Wait – he is, and I’m not?”

“Commander, you should know by now that relationships between a superior and his subordinate will only lead to some very awkward situations,” Hanji answered.

“It’s uncomfortable,” Miike added.

“Unfortunate,” Levi contributed.

“Disastrous.” Hanji wiggled her fingers ominously.

“Unnecessary.” Miike nodded.

“Fucked-up.” Levi drowned his drink.

Miike made a face before drinking. “Must you always be so crass?”

Levi shrugged.

“And yet Levi is on the shortlist in spite of his rank. The whole world is against me,” Irwin continued to moan.

“Aw, don’t take it personally, Commander! I still think you’re cute!”

Irwin gulped his drink down. “Small comfort.”

Hanji fell out of her chair again and pointed at Levi. “Small!”

Levi flipped her the bird.

“Speaking of subordinates,” Miike said, pouring new rounds into everyone’s glasses. “Levi, is it true you’re taking the young Jaeger kid under your wing?”

“Nobody’s going under anything.” Levi snorted. “He’s in my squad, because someone needs to keep an eye on him. How do you know this anyway?”

Miike shrugged. “Word gets around.”

“You mean Hanji gets around,” Levi said, glaring daggers at the scientist.

“So why ask if you already know the answer?”

“Go suck a dick, Miike.”

Miike threw up his hands. “Irwin! You really should be disciplining the man more strictly. Mouth like this, he’s bound to get into trouble soon.”

“I’m busy.” Irwin waved the comment away. “He can do it himself.”

“Tch.” Miike sniffed. “About the Titan boy, Levi – I never thought you were in the child-rearing department.”

“I’m not,” Levi said. “But the kid has guts. Who knows, he might be able to impress me.”

Hanji gasped. “Did you – did you actually just say something _nice?_ ” She turned to Miike and stage-whispered. “Miike, I think he _is_ drunk!”

“Fuck you. And fuck you too. Fuck both of you.”

“You’re really passing me up for this runt, Hanji?” Irwin sulked. “Are you _sure_ you aren’t making a mistake here?”

“Why are you so desperate to get into the good Squad Leader’s pants?” Miike asked.

“Aw, don’t worry, Commander!” Hanji said, laughing at Irwin’s expression. “If these two ever get stupid and die out there, you’ll be next on the shortlist!”

“Well you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Miike muttered into his glass.

“Why are we still talking about this?” Levi moaned, burying his face into his free hand.

“Aren’t you even the least bit flattered to know that you’re first on my shortlist?” Hanji demanded.

“If I didn’t know any better, shit glasses, I’d say you were making fun of my height again.” Levi rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look so down about it, Irwin. These two deserve each other, if anything,” Miike consoled, laying a comforting hand on Irwin’s troubled shoulder. “Besides, Hanji will wear you out sooner or later. Better she pisses Levi off than either of us.”

“Should I be flattered?” Hanji asked, drinking her alcohol. “Because I’m feeling flattered.”

“Irwin, are you a virgin?”

Irwin almost spit out his drink.

Hanji fell out of her chair laughing.

Miike put a thoughtful finger to his chin. “Hm. That is a great question, Commander.”

“That’s – that’s private business!” Irwin sputtered.

“It’s okay if you haven’t gotten laid yet, Irwin,” Levi said. “Shit glasses and I already admitted the same, while I couldn’t give a shit about Miike’s virginity.”

Miike put a hand to his chest. “I’m touched to hear you think so highly of me, Levi.”

“Fuck off.”

“You know, I bet Commander’s got a few conquests of his own,” Hanji said.

“You don’t have to call them conquests,” Irwin said. “That sounds so cruel.”

“Aha, so he admits to having conquests!” Miike said. “Tell me, Irwin, was it Niles’ wife?”

Levi snorted. “Is the man that big of a loser, he can’t even afford to give his own a wife a good lay?”

“You’re one to talk, _virgin._ ”

“Was I _talking_ to you, shit glasses?”

“Will you two _please_ get a room?” Miike groaned. “You do this every time we get together.”

“Do what?” Hanji asked.

“This!” Miike said, waving his hands about. “Arguing like a cat and a dog –”

“A shitty cat.”

“Why do I always get to be the cat, Levi? You know I like dogs.”

“Ah, yes. Dogs are dirtier. Fine, I change my mind.”

“No, wait, that sounds even worse.”

“There, see! Like a cat and a dog.” Miike pointed at them. “Then minutes later, you’ll be finishing each other’s sentences like nothing ever happened.”

“Each other’s what now?”

“Sentences? Really? Since fucking when?”

“Hm, I see what he means,” Irwin nodded. “You do this during missions too.”

“Hey, it’s not like I enjoy doing this –”

“Come on, Levi! You _so_ do enjoy doing this!”

“I only do it, because I don’t want Hanji here to look like a fucking autistic retard talking to herself. Your Moblit is already harassed enough.”

“How does one turn into an autistic and a retard, exactly?”

“You’re asking me, shit glasses? I thought you already knew the answer.”

“They’re completely ignoring us,” Miike stage-whispered to Irwin. “As if we’re not in the room at all.”

“Just as well, I think.” Irwin laid a comforting hand on Miike’s troubled shoulder. “I should call it a night, there’s plenty of work ahead of us tomorrow. If these two want to stay up late and deprive themselves of valuable sleeping time, then that’s their decision.”

“Take me with you, Irwin. I don’t think I can stand to be with these two any longer. Love suffocates me.”

“Right. Whatever you say.”

“It’s true. Ask Nanaba. She’s completely fed up with my overreacting.”

“I can see what she means.”

“Good, because I don’t.”

“ – never seen your parents before, Levi. Are you sure that isn’t a birth defect?”

“Fuck you, shit glasses. Do you see me making cracks about how your parents dropped you as a child?”

“No, but I knew you were going to.”

“Oh, you did, did you.”

Miike cleared his throat. “We’ll be leaving now. You two are beginning to nauseate me and the good Commander here. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Levi and Hanji exchanged glances.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Levi said.

“What he said,” Hanji agreed.

“I give up,” Miike groaned. “Come, Irwin, let’s leave these two be. If Hanji comes out of this pregnant, then at least we won’t be blamed.”

“Aw Miike, don’t be that way!” Hanji said. “You’d be totally fine with being the father of my babies!”

“Not with Levi in the same room, I’m not,” Miike said, pointing a finger at the Lance Corporal.

“I don’t know what this father business is about,” Irwin groaned. “But I give up. I’m going to sleep. If you three want to have hangovers that badly tomorrow morning, then that’s on you.”

“Irwin, wait up, I’m going with you,” Levi said, also standing up. “Any more of shit glasses tonight, and I won’t be able to handle her tomorrow.”

“Ah, Levi, that’s not fair,” Miike said, trying to wave him back. “You’re only leaving because you’re drunk now and embarrassed you’ll say more than you mean.”

“Yeah!” Hanji yelled, waving her glass. “Come back here, Levi! _I want to pick your brain._ ”

“Not a chance,” Levi scoffed and hurried out the door.

“He’s totally tipsy.” Miike chuckled. “Irwin, you’re really not staying?”

“No, I have work in the morning,” he said, shaking his head. “You two wrap it up soon. I don’t give sick leaves for hangovers.”

“Yes, mom,” Hanji giggled.

“You mean dad,” Miike corrected.

“Just go to bed,” Irwin said.

“Teasing the Commander, Squad Leader?” Miike smirked when Irwin left the room. “That’s not very nice.”

“Hey, you were a hundred percent going for it, Squad Leader!” Hanji laughed. “And don’t you dare pretend otherwise.”

“Who said I was?” Miike shrugged. “I still think you’re the only one here who can piss Levi off and get away with it.”

“Don’t think I’m not proud of it.” Hanji puffed out her chest.

“Pity the Commander came in so late.”

“Yeah. We should try to get Levi drunk more often. He’s fun to tease when he’s drunk.”

“I’ll leave the teasing-the-lion job to you, Squad Leader.”

“Don’t you mean short-arse-lion, Squad Leader?”

“That too.”

“Want to drink to that?”

“But the good Commander told us to go to sleep. Where’s your sense of duty?”

“Aw come on, Miike! Just one more! If you drink this last shot with me, I’ll make sure Levi’s face goes red at least twice a week.”

Miike considered this. “Alright. But you better be serious about this, Hanji.”

“Hey, have I ever broken a promise before?”

“Hm. I should say not.” Miike smirked. “Okay, last shot. Your toast first.”

Hanji cleared her throat and raised her glass. “To Short Ass Levi: may he never get the inches he needs to outgrow me.”

Miike snorted and raised his glass to clink it against hers. “And to the Good Commander: may he continue to be blessed with killer instinct, battle prowess, and incredible charisma.”

“Cheers, Squad Leader Miike Zacharius.”

“Cheers, Squad Leader Hanji Zoe.”

 


	10. Marlowe

  _(Timeline: After Graduation)_

As a bonafide member of the Military Police, Marlowe Sand was no stranger to the army’s amazing proficiency for incompetence. It was like a whole other world in front of the enemy lines, with a whole other war. At the front, leading the charge, were his officers, who preferred to discuss strategy and tactics over a poker table. They always held celebrations in the barracks, whether they won, lost, or didn't go out into battle at all - however, these were exclusive events, and you could only partake in the festivities if you were an officer. 

Here, behind the daunting Walls that surrounded them all, was where the real battle for humanity’s honor was waged. Here, the flames of war were fueled by overdue paperwork; the grisly details, sorted out by expenses labeled “Miscellaneous.”

And yet, only he, Marlowe Sand, was aware of it all. Only he knew the risks and dangers of plunging into this vicious battleground alone. But fight on he must, even if most of his comrades had already given up the cause as a lost one.

“In your dreams!” Hitch jeered, doubled-up again in laughter and banging her fist on the floor. Beside her, Annie looked on indifferently.

Marlowe sighed. Indeed, this was a fight he alone had to face. It was at crucial moments like this one where a true soldier’s mettle was tested, and Marlowe wasn’t going to give up now.

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed,” he said to Hitch.

“A simple ‘please’ would have sufficed,” she said, sneering back at him. “You didn’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

“Dramatic!”

“You heard me.”

“All I did –” he paused, taking a moment to suck his anger in like a true professional – “was ask if you’d like to join me on my mission.”

“Mission!” Hitch’s eyes began to tear up again and Marlowe was afraid that this would spur another laughing fit. “ _Mission,_ he says!” she said, nudging Annie meaningfully.

Annie stared back at her, unblinking.

Hitch recovered quickly. “Marlowe, you’ve been sent on an _errand,_ okay?” she told him. “An errand. Because that’s all you’re – _we’re_ – good for around here. Glorified errand boys. And you’d better believe I went through years of army training to live this good life.”

Marlowe snorted. A disgrace! A stain on this army’s good name! Of course, the system itself was shoddy and needed a lot of patching up, but it was as if Hitch had stepped on all the good things the army _could have_ been, then danced on the remains afterwards.

“You’re a disgrace, Hitch.”

“Oh no, not this again.” She groaned, pinching her nose. “You know what, Marlowe, you can forget about getting any help from me this time. You’re on your own.”

“But you said you weren’t going to help anyway.”

“Well, I might have changed my mind!”

Marlowe turned to Annie to see what she thought and was totally unsurprised to no longer find her there. He looked back at Hitch and was totally unsurprised to find that she was still talking.

“But I'm still going to wish you luck, because I'm so nice,” she continued to say, “and because you’re going to need it. And don't forget to bring an extra pen. You’re going to need that too.”

“An extra pen? But all I’m doing is file an office request. You’re making it sound like they’re putting me on guard duty or something.”

She snickered. “They might as well. Trust me when I say that guard duty’s always a better assignment than the stupid paperwork.”   

“It can’t be that difficult.”

“Watch your words, Marlowe. You don’t want them to be your last.”

He blinked at her, wondering at the dark tone that had coated her final warning. “But I’m only filing a request!”

Hitch cackled madly at him. “No,” she said, before dashing away to find Annie. “You’re on a mission, remember?”

* * *

Marlowe stared down at the form in his hands, uncomprehending. How was anyone to make any sense out of _this?_

Besides the bundle of identifications the Rental Office had demanded, he'd also had to provide copies of the requester’s identification, copies of the requester’s representative’s identification, original samples of the requester’s signatures, as well as even more copies of the same. There was also the matter of filling out the unnecessarily-complicated Form 34-4A and Form 34-4B, both without any erasures and without any space left blank.

But Marlowe had accomplished everything at last and it was with a resurgence of pride that he marched up to Counter 1 with everything the form had requested.

“Marlowe Sand, here to file a request, sir!” he declared.

The soldier manning Counter 1 didn’t even look up at him when he reached out a hand to Marlowe.

He dutifully placed the forms, identifications, and copies of the forms and identifications on the soldier’s outstretched hand. Marlowe hadn’t even had time to properly read out the nameplate displayed on the counter before the soldier shoved his forms back out at him.

“You need to give me three copies of everything,” he said.

Marlowe stared at the bundle of paper in his hands. “But I’ve got copies of the signatures and identifications!”

“Yes, but we need three copies of both forms. You only submitted one of each.”

He flipped through Form 34-4A and Form 34-4B, counted three pages for each, then groaned at how many more times he was going to have to fill out the extra copies.

“And you left out the back page on Page Three.”

Marlowe groaned again. He was suddenly grateful to have brought the extra pen with him.

The soldier looked across the counter at him with some sympathy. “This is your first time filling these out, right?” he said. “That’s okay, it’s a common mistake. All the paperwork that comes through me needs to come in threes, so it’ll be good for you to remember that from now on. You understand? That’s three times you have to fill out your forms. And always remember to look for back pages. You can’t have any erasures and you can’t leave any blanks. You understand?”

Marlowe nodded, beginning to feel a real bond start to come alive between him and this soldier. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay, good. Now move out of the way, will you? You’re holding up the line.”

Marlowe frowned, feeling the bond die a most cruel death, before nodding again and scuttling away.

* * *

“Hmm… no.”

Marlowe gaped at the soldier behind Counter 1. “But I’ve filled them out three times, like you said! No erasures and no blanks!”

“Yes, yes, I can see that,” the soldier said, pushing the papers back out at him again. “But this is the wrong form.”

Marlowe flipped through the pages again hurriedly, no longer caring that he was crumpling the pages he’d taken great care not to destroy. He looked back at the soldier. “I’m here to file a request, sir.”

“Yes.”

“It’s for a room my officers need for tomorrow night and the next.”

“Yes.”

“Form 34-4A and Form 34-4B are the allotted forms for room requests.”

“No.”

Marlowe stared at him, continuing only when it looked like the soldier wasn't joking. “What do you mean no?” he demanded. “That’s what it says on the forms here, right?”

The soldier was shaking his head at him. It would have been much easier to hate him if he’d been doing it to make fun. But the soldier was doing all this in such a detached and uninterested manner, that Marlowe began to redirect all that anger to himself instead for not getting the process right.

“Form 34-4A and Form 34-4B are for room requests, yes,” the soldier told him. “But it really depends on the nature of the request, you see. If it’s for official business, then yes, Form 34-4A and Form 34-4B are the forms to fill out. But you’ve listed your expenses under ‘Miscellaneous’ here, so you’ll need to fill out Form 34-4-1A and Form 34-4-1B instead.”

Marlowe’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “What kind of form names even are _those?_ ”

“Come on, with all those Miscellaneous expenses, you really believe they’re going to use that room for official business?”

“Yes?”

“No,” the soldier corrected. “For unofficial business, it’s Form 34-4-1A and Form 34-4-1B for you. I’m sorry you had to learn this the hard way, but at least you’re not going to make the same mistake again.”

“I’m never going to file requests like this again.”

“Kind of makes you wish you were on guard duty instead, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Marlowe said, feeling the camaraderie rushing back over him.

But the soldier at Counter 1 waved a hand at him again and looked back down at his stack of paperwork. “Okay, now move on already. You’re holding up the line.”

Marlowe grumbled and left the counter, but not before hearing the soldier call back to him. “And three copies of that, you understand? No erasures –”

“And no blank spaces, yes, I got it.” He turned to look behind him, half-expecting to see the soldier at Counter 1 wink at him in understanding. But the soldier had immediately turned his attention back to his next client, as if forgetting about Marlowe’s existence entirely.

It was totally unsurprising, if Marlowe had anything to say about it.

* * *

"You’re going to hate me for this.”

Marlowe’s bright, expectant face plunged into disappointed darkness. “What are you talking about? What did I get wrong this time?”

The soldier at Counter 1 shook his head and released a sad snort through his nose. “ _Really_ going to hate me for this,” he repeated.

Marlowe slammed his hands on the counter, becoming exceedingly miffed that this hadn’t gotten a reaction out of the soldier. “Just tell me what it is!” he said, his voice getting louder with irrational anger. “I have three copies of all the forms you wanted. Three copies of original identifications and signature samples of both me and my officers. I even filled out the rest of the forms you had there, just in case!” He slammed his pen flat on the counter. “My pen’s almost out of ink!”

The soldier slid the bundle of papers to Marlowe and shrugged his shoulders. “This is the wrong counter,” he said. “This is Counter 1. We only process room requests for official business here. If it’s room requests for unofficial business you want, you’ve got to line up at Counter 3.”

Marlowe looked over at Counter 3, immediately despairing at the sight of a long line of rookie soldiers who were just as frazzled and tired as he was. “You mean I have to line up _again?_ ”

“It’s not so bad. If you’re quick and line up now, you just might be able to get those papers processed before they close up for the day.”

“I’ve been here since lunch time and you couldn’t have told me before?”

“Hey, we’re a busy counter here too, okay? You understand? Just because we process official business-only requests here, doesn’t mean we’re incompetent. Really, you Military Police are all the same.”

“What do you mean by that? I thought we were making a real friendship here!”

“Please, I don’t even know what your name is.”

“Oh, it’s Marlowe . Marlowe Sa –”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to know what your name was either.” The soldier twirled a pen between his fingers and glanced at the line forming in front of Counter 3. “Hey, don’t you have a line to catch?”

Marlowe grumbled at him. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get out of your hair already.”

“Make sure to get assigned on guard duty from now on!” the soldier called after him, but Marlowe was already too far gone to care any longer.

* * *

“How’s it going, O noble soldier of the King?”

Marlowe looked to his side with little interest, unsurprised to find Hitch there with her patented grin. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

She giggled and took a bite out of her apple. “Uh-huh. I could have told you about it before, but you said you didn’t need my help.”

“Hitch, I’ve been here all afternoon.”

“That’s nothing. I’ve heard of lesser men who’ve gone through worse.” She shuddered. “Try going back and forth to the same, stupid office for _days._ ”

But Marlowe had become so deadened and so unaffected by the afternoon’s events, that he wasn’t in any mood to care. “I think they’re closing up soon,” he said. “There’s three more guys ahead of me, but there’s only a few more minutes left until the office closes. I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

Hitch slapped his back and snorted at him. “Now that’s not the Marlowe I know,” she said. “You’re usually more annoying than this. What happened?”

“I’ve been here all afternoon, I told you already.”

“Well, we all have to go through request-filing at some point in our lives.” She finished off her apple with a flourish and wiped her fingers on her jacket. “Listen, I know a much faster way to do this, but that’s only if you let me handle it.”

Marlowe sighed. “But then I’ll have to owe you, won’t I?”

She winked at him. “Of course, you moron. I don’t give my talents away for free.”

“Forget it. If I’m going to do this, it’ll be fair and by the book.”

“Hey, who said I’m not going to be legal about this?”

“I didn’t say you weren’t going to be legal, I said you weren’t going to be fair about this.”

“Eh, that’s fair. But I don’t know, Marlowe. If I were you, I’d _really_  make sure I won't be back here again tomorrow, when I could be outside doing more productive things like patrolling.”

Marlowe considered this. “Hitch,” he said, giving human decency one last shot. “Hitch, you can’t do something illegal here. What’ll happen if you get caught?”

“And you don’t think making you line up for hours is illegal?” She laughed. “Come on, Marlowe, trust me here. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“All the time,” he muttered under his breath.

She pretended not to hear.

"I'm still not seeing you give me any papers," she prompted.

He sighed, finally giving up. "Fine," he said and shoved the inhuman stack towards her. "Whatever you'll want me to do for you can't be any worse than this."

"I wouldn't be too sure." She winked, then quickly scanned the forms he'd filled out. She made an impressed-sounding noise. "Must be some party they're having if they have this much under Miscellaneous."

"Can't see why they can't file the stupid thing themselves."

"We're errand boys, Marlowe. Errand boys for the King and everyone under him. That's what Military Policing is." She looked over at him with some compassion in her eyes. "These seem okay. Wait for me there. I'll be back before you know it."

Marlowe trudged over to the chair she'd pointed at and plopped down on it. He wiped some sweat off his brow, not missing the setting sun outside. "All afternoon," he muttered to himself. He shook his head. Fighting a war from the inside was proving to be extremely difficult and he knew he'd been a fool for dismissing his comrade Hitch so easily. What had made him think he was better than her anyway? And only because he was the only one between them willing to follow the rules? What kind of a lousy standard was that - especially since her way looked to be much more effective than any safe, legal thing he could think of? What good was following the rules if the rules were already crooked on their own?

He _could_ do what Hitch did - whatever it was. But he remembered Annie calling him an idiot and still managing to make it sound like a compliment, and suddenly, Marlowe wasn't so sure.

"All done!" Hitch chirped, skipping her way back to him from Counter 3. He hadn't even noticed that the office had already closed, and that Hitch must have forced her way in if she'd been accommodated. "Told you there was nothing to it."

He flipped through the lone copy of Form 34-4-1A and Form 34-4-1B she'd been allowed to keep, a bright red stamp of 'Approved' adorning their front pages. He whistled, totally impressed. "How'd you do it, Hitch?"

"I'd rather not tell you, 'cause I know you'll only mope for not thinking about it first," she replied. "But -" here, she wiggled her butt, giving Marlowe a naughty wink. "- it's definitely got something to do with something you can't do, no matter what."

A flicker of understanding sparked in Marlowe's eyes. "Oh," he said. 

"Just buy me dinner for the rest of the week and we're square," Hitch said and leaned down to pull him out of the chair. "Tonight, I'm thinking something classy and expensive, like anywhere else besides mess hall."

Even Marlowe had to laugh at that. "For someone who busted me out of a place like this, dinner's a really small price to pay." He gave a final look around the offices and wasn't surprised at all to find that the helpful soldier behind Counter 1 had already left. "You know, Hitch," Marlowe told her once they'd stepped out of the Rental Offices. "When I get promoted and when I become an officer, I'm going to change things."

She snorted. "What, you're going to change the system from the inside like you keep telling me? Good luck."

"Believe me, I will," he said, thinking of Annie again. "Just because the system's crooked, doesn't mean we have to be, too."

"You can start by changing the menu at mess hall." Then, Marlowe's last comment registered, turning her quick chuckle into a quick frown. She punched his shoulder. "Hey, you're calling me crooked?"

"You call me stupid all the time. I only think it's fair."

Hitch stared at him, giving his statement some careful thought. Finally deciding that it wasn't worth the trouble, she threw her head back and started to laugh again instead. "Whatever, Marlowe. You do what you want to do. Don't say I didn't warn you, though."

"Don't worry," Marlowe said, grinning at her. "I wasn't thinking about you at all."

 


	11. Daz

_(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

Two and a half hours after the historic Diarrhea Outbreak of the 104th, there was nobody in the barracks who didn’t want Daz dead.

The story of the Great Diarrhea Outbreak of the 104th had many versions, most of them recalled with spite and words of “that fucking asshole, Daz” thrown into the narrative. Nobody knew how it started, mostly because they didn’t care and partly because no one liked Daz enough to ask him.

“ _I_ like Daz,” Thomas said.

Jean sneered at him. “Really? After what he did?”

“Why not? Poor guy doesn’t have any friends. I feel bad for him.”

“He did something to our food,” Nac said from his bed.

“The cooks always do something to our food,” Connie said. “I don’t know what it is, but they’re doing something to it for sure.”

Well, some people didn’t like Daz enough to ask him.

But they had theories.

Perhaps Daz was terrified. The problem was, when Daz was terrified, he usually made the mistake of dragging everyone else along with him into his own personal hells.

“That’s right. Remember that time Keith Fucking Shadis gave us all a hundred push-ups, because that fucking Daz slacked off?” Nac grumbled.

Mina Carolina shook her head, already disapproving of his foul language.

“Oh, I remember that!” Thomas said, waving a hand in the air. “He made Daz take his lunch early and watch us do the push-ups too. Lucky guy. Wonder what he did to get preferential treatment?

Jean rolled his eyes. “Think that was kind of the point of the exercise, Thomas. Let the slacker eat while the rest of us do the hundred push-ups in agony.”

“I don’t think it was a hundred push-ups,” Mylius said, furrowing his brows.

“I’ll say.” Nac snorted. “Felt more like a thousand, if you ask me.”

“Is Sasha done at the latrine yet?” Connie asked everyone. “I bet she knows what the cooks put in the food they serve at mess.”

“Shut up, Connie, nobody cares about that anymore.”

“Aw Jean, you’re no fun.”

They continued to talk about Daz.

What made him so afraid anyway? Had he seen a Titan up-close? Had he witnessed a relative getting eaten by one? Had he almost died because of them? Why had he bothered to enlist in the first place, if he was so scared? Nobody knew, because nobody bothered to ask. Daz had no real, close friends in his class, unless you counted Christa, who was real, close friends with everyone.

So, maybe Daz was also real, close friends with Ymir. After all, anyone who was able to so much as breathe next to Christa and not have their arms broken must have been able to do something right by Ymir. It was very difficult to earn her friendship, unless you were tiny, blonde, and had a name like a princess. As Daz fit none of the requirements, this was a very puzzling train of thought to pursue.

“And a hell of a friendship it is, too.” Nac shuddered, still feeling the wounds from his last disastrous encounter with Ymir. “Far as I’m concerned, she can keep her crummy friendship and shove it up her –”

“Honestly!” Mina Carolina said. “You’d think we’d all stop talking about… _that,_ given the situation.”

“Yeah, Nac,” Jean said. “Give it a rest already.”

Nac huffed and crossed his arms, looking to his friend Mylius for support. “You were there with me when it happened, remember? Show me some love here.”

“I’d prefer not to think about it anymore, thanks very much.”

Connie snickered. “So you guys got beat up by Ymir. Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened around here.”

Hannah was shaking her head at them all. “I don’t think Daz’s real, close friends with Ymir. At least, I don’t think they are, just yet.”

Everyone nodded at this. Hannah Diamant, after all, was the 104th’s chief storyteller and resident insider on anyone’s personal lives. They'd all learned not to question her stories out loud. However, they'd also learned to take these stories with a grain of salt, as most of the details were subject to gross exaggeration. 

Nac faked a loud cough. “Blab,” he said.

Mylius reached over and smacked the back of Nac’s head, upset that he’d gone out of his way to antagonize Hannah. He looked over at Hannah hopefully, thinking that she’d seen this valiant act of chivalry, but was immediately crestfallen when she turned away and ignored it completely.

“Listen, if they were all close friends, then I would have known about it.” Hannah shook her head with finality. Her audience made vague mutterings of agreement.

Everyone with the patience to do so had learned to become experts in the art of deciphering Hannah’s tall tales and finding the small nugget of truth that was sure to be buried within them. Although many of Hannah’s stories were unreliable, they still had to come from somewhere.

So if she was sure they weren't real, close friends, then they most likely weren't. So now, it was established that Ymir was not the only reason Daz kept to himself.

But maybe, it was because picking on Daz was like picking on a sick, dying dog. There was no dignity or bruised honor to salvage by making fun of him, simply because he made it too easy. So, everybody left him alone.

“What a mean thing to say, Jean.” Mina Carolina gasped, shocked that he’d even go to such lengths to put down a fellow human being.

He shrugged, but he did look away, immediately guilty. The disappointment radiating from Mina Carolina’s eyes was blinding, and Jean felt it pierce into the very core of his being. “Okay,” he said, regret lacing his words. Marco was right, his people skills did need a lot of work. “But I was just being honest, alright?”

When Mina Carolina still didn’t look satisfied with his flimsy explanation, Connie raised a hand. “I can see what he means,” he said. “I get it, really. Daz is like that stupid brother you like, but don’t like at the same time. You kinda want to hit him so he can stop being stupid, but you also kinda don’t, because he’s your brother. Kind of like that, see?” 

“Yeah, exactly like that! You’re a genius, Connie.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you guys that all year.”

The two exchanged high-fives.

Meanwhile, Thomas was looking at them in amazement. “How’d you figure that out?”

Connie shrugged. “I have a lot of stupid brothers.”

“You boys are strange,” Mina Carolina said. “I’ve never felt that way about other girls.”

“I have,” Hannah said, but given her bad habit of spreading general falsehoods, nobody could really say they were surprised.

“You have?!”

Except Mylius.

“Sure!” Hannah nodded. “But Connie’s feelings are much deeper. I’ve never had brothers, so I really wouldn’t know. But thinking about hitting someone else and not doing it in the end? Yeah, I definitely know what that’s like.”

Mylius blinked at her, quite unable to believe the violent nature that hid within this sweet red-haired girl he’d fallen for. Nac chortled, taking some sadistic pleasure in his friend’s misery.

“No wonder he’s always so scared of everyone,” Mina Carolina said. “If half the class wanted to beat me up, I’d be scared too.”

“It’s not just that, though,” Connie said. “Thing is, the guy’s scared of _everything._ Doesn’t matter if you did something to him or not. Get near him and he runs away.”

“Or faints,” Nac added.

“ _Pretends_ to faint.” Jean snorted.

It was true - as true as the sun rising in the morning and as true as mess hall serving the same round of leftovers for one straight week - that Daz was always cowering in constant fear of everyone.

Loud voices scared him, so he stayed away from Thomas.

Angry eyes scared him, so he stayed away from Eren.

Mikasa scared him, so he stayed away from Mikasa.

Daz stayed away from everyone.

“You gotta admire him for that, at least.” Nac laughed. “He always finds something new to be scared of, no matter what you do. Now that’s what I call creativity.”

It was still possible to admire him, because as much as his groveling and sniveling got tiresome sometimes, he truly was something else if he let his fear of the Titans outweigh his fear of everybody else. To be so scared of a threat that was still so far away, that he was willing to risk igniting the fury of everyone in his immediate distance took incredible courage.

An incredible, idiotic kind of courage that wasn’t necessarily like Eren’s, but an incredible, idiotic kind of courage all the same.

The truly amazing thing about Daz was his highly-tuned sense of self-preservation.

“I guess there is something admirable behind that,” Mylius said, contemplating. “I never thought Daz was that kind of person, though.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” Jean said. “Nobody here knows what kind of person that fucking asshole Daz is.”

“That’s because we never ask,” Thomas said. “Don’t you think we should? We’re his classmates, after all.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Jean said. “See if you don’t get tired of him hiding behind you all the time.”

“Jean!” Mina Carolina said again.

He flinched, but he forged on, eager to remind everyone why they were all stuck at the camp’s infirmary in the first place. “Have you all forgotten what he’s done?” he said.

Just then, the front door slammed open, and Sasha walked in, accompanied by Annie. Sasha looked at them all and beamed. “That felt good!” she declared. “Connie, I think I’m falling in love with the latrines. I think I could sleep there everyday now!”

“Um,” Connie said, throwing a panicked glance to Annie. Annie avoided his gaze and went over to sit beside Mina Carolina. Connie looked back to Sasha. “That’s good?”

“I might even want to get married there!” she continued.

Connie paled. “M-married?” Now, he refused to look anywhere else, because Jean and Nac’s hideous laughter was a good enough indication of what everyone else in the room was thinking.

“That’s how good the latrines are, Connie! This diarrhea might not be so bad after all!”

Nac stopped laughing immediately. “Since when has diarrhea ever been anything but a bad thing?”

“I’m just saying,” Sasha said, huffing and bouncing on her bed before settling down. “Nac, I’ve discovered a newfound appreciation for our latrines. You should be happy for me.”

“I’m happy for you!” Thomas said, ever the supportive classmate.

“Me too!” Hannah said, although she probably only said this because she’d also benefited from Sasha’s sudden confession. Everyone who heard her instantly knew that, as soon as she got released from the infirmary, she would be handing out invitations to Connie and Sasha’s wedding.

Jean looked at Mina Carolina triumphantly, but made sure to tone down the smugness in case Annie took offense. “You see," he said to her. "This is all Daz's fault and he should pay for this.”

“Diarrhea isn’t so bad.”

“Okay, Sasha, we already heard you the first time.”

"What if he’s just religious?” Nac suggested, clearly already giving up. “Daz, I mean. Like, maybe he heard the Walls tell him to spike our food or something?”

“Doubt it,” Connie said. “A wuss like that, religious? I don’t think so.”

It was difficult to imagine Daz as a religious man, because to be one would imply that there was some invisible force in the heavens who had everyone’s best interests at heart. But what if, every time Daz looked towards the heavens, he only saw malicious Titans grinning down at him, waiting to eat him alive?

To believe in some majestic, benevolent being like that was to believe in hope for a better tomorrow – and Daz, with his all-knowing and all-fearing outlook on life, had to know better than anyone that no such incredible thing existed.

How could it, when death was the only thing left to look forward to in life?

And not just any death – not the safe kind of death that Daz might have preferred, like dying in bed or dying in your garden from a heart attack. No, this majestic, benevolent being wanted everyone to die terribly – wanted everyone to feel themselves being bitten and chewed into tiny, little pieces, screaming the whole time, until finally sliding down the Titan’s –

“Connie!” Mina Carolina cried, petting Thomas’ head. Beside her, Thomas was sobbing uncontrollably. Annie looked on at this scene with an indifferent look on her face.

“No, go on, please, that was actually kind of – ow!”

Mylius settled back down on his bed after hitting Nac for the fifth time that day.

“Are you okay?” Jean looked at Connie curiously. “You’re not flaking out on us now, are you?”

Connie waved him off. “I’m fine, it was just something funny I thought of, that’s all.”

“It didn’t _sound_ funny,” Mina Carolina said.

“Yeah, that – that was scary, Connie!” Thomas said, between sobbing hiccups.

He grinned at him, not looking entirely regretful. “Sorry, man.”

“I’m confused,” Sasha said. “Why are we talking about Daz?”

“’Cause he gave us diarrhea, that’s why,” Jean said. “That fucking asshole.”

“I’ll _kill_ him!” Eren screamed, suddenly bursting into the room. Mikasa and Armin trailed after him, both of them bored and fed up, not unlike Annie who’d come in after Sasha earlier. “I’ll do it!” Eren continued to yell, issuing a challenge to everybody. “I’ll really kill him, I swear!”

Mina Carolina shot up from her bed, finally at the end of her rope where Daz was concerned. “Would everyone just leave poor Daz alone?”

“Yeah, Jaeger, pipe down. Some of us are trying to recuperate here.”

For the first time, Eren ignored Jean’s goading, so he could properly focus on Mina Carolina. “What?” he said. “What are you talking about? Why are we talking about Daz?”

“That’s what I wanna know!” Sasha said.

“The guy gave us diarrhea and you don’t want to know why?” Nac said.

Armin looked at him, confused. “But if he isn’t here, then what’s the point of talking about it?”

“ _Theories,_ man, theories!” Connie said. “Armin, I thought you of all people would appreciate stuff like this.”

“I appreciate it!” Hannah said, but nobody chose to acknowledge this, for fear of the stories she’d start telling next.

Armin exchanged a look with Mikasa, but it was Eren who answered for them both. “Well, for the record, I don’t want to kill Daz.” He made sure to address this to Hannah in particular, now fearing that people would start labeling him as a homicidal maniac, in addition to the suicidal maniac label he already had. “But he is kind of a fucking asshole.”

“See?” Jean shouted in triumph, but scowled suddenly, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to be agreeing with Eren on anything.

“So…” Thomas said. “Who were you talking about if it wasn’t Daz?”

The flame in Eren’s eyes came alive again and he resumed his challenging pose at once. “It’s those _doctors,_ that’s who!” he yelled at everyone in the room. “None of them even know what they’re doing here, I swear!”

Armin buried his face in his hands. “Not again, not again.” He moaned, wishing he could melt on the spot.

Mikasa looked at her friend in sympathy. Then, she looked at Eren. Finally, as if confirming something to herself, she nodded and walked over to her ranting adoptive brother.

“See if they poke me with those needles again after I keep _telling_ them I’m not – Mikasa?”

Mikasa knocked him unconscious. Then, tossed him over her shoulder and proceeded to deposit him in his bed beside Thomas. She made her way stiffly back to Armin, ignoring everyone’s collective shock.

“You – you hit him!” Jean said, at a loss for words.

“Knocked him dead!” Nac said, feeling his lost dignity all over again, remembering the last time he’d pissed off Mikasa.

“That was _awesome!_ ” Connie said, losing all camaraderie for his fellow classmates and siding with the freak strongman that was Mikasa Ackerman.

Annie gave Mikasa a small nod, approving of her swift action.

“He won’t be happy when he wakes up,” Armin said.

“I’ll take care of him,” Mikasa answered.

Armin nodded immediately, accepting this automatically as one of life’s little non-surprises.

The front door opened again, this time revealing Daz, who was standing in the doorway and hunching his back, like he wanted to take a nosedive into the ground beneath him and never come up for air. An impressive ensemble stood behind him, consisting of Reiner, Marco, Christa, and Ymir. They’d all obviously had a good, long talk with their classmate after he’d been punished rather fucking harshly by Keith Fucking Shadis.

Ymir snorted when she saw all the pathetic-looking patients crowding the infirmary, but stopped when Christa gave her a look.

Everyone looked at them in silence, none of them knowing what to say, now that the filthy mastermind behind their problematic behinds was standing before them.

“Go on,” Marco said, clapping a supportive hand on Daz’s shoulder. Daz flinched like he’d been touched by hot iron.

“Tell ‘em, man,” Reiner said, trying very hard to keep the laughter out of his voice. “They deserve some closure, at least.”

Daz gulped and kept his terrified gaze stuck on the floor. When he spoke, his voice came out in a squeak. “I’m sorry,” he said.

It was Jean who’d finally broken the silence. “I bet you are,” he said.

Marco and Mina Carolina shot him reprimanding looks and Jean was guilt-tripped into silence again.

Daz spoke up again. “I wanted to save all of you!” he said. “We’re all going to die!”

“No, we’re not,” Thomas said, wanting to comfort him already.

“We kind of are,” Nac said, not seeing the point in promising such an impossible thing.

“I feel like I am,” Connie said, feeling the need to inform everyone of his bowel movements.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Mylius said, desperate to divert all attention from Connie’s problems. “You wanted to save us by giving us diarrhea?”

“You fucking asshole!” Jean swore, but stopped in his tracks when even Armin had turned around to give him a look.

Daz shook in terror, wondering what else he had to do to avoid everyone’s judging looks. His momentary agony was relieved when Marco stepped in for him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his eyes and voice full of gentleness. It was hard not to believe him when he looked at you like this. “We’ll take over from here.”

Daz nodded at him gratefully, then turned on his heel and scampered out of the infirmary, safe from the accusations and angry stares.

“He didn’t mean any harm,” Christa told everyone with a smile. “You see, he wanted to save you all from the inevitable outcome of dying to a Titan.”

Reiner laughed. He’d already heard this before, but the whole thing seemed ten times funnier, now that he was hearing it again. “Yeah, so he put something in that grub you guys ate, so you’re all stuck here in sick bay. Nobody goes out to meet the Titans, nobody dies. It’s the perfect plan.”

“Kinda stupid, if you ask me,” Ymir muttered. She rolled her eyes when Christa started giving her looks again. “Seriously, though, you guys are pathetic. Except you, Mina Carolina, you’re okay.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re scared of Annie.” Sasha grumbled, sore that her friend hadn't exempted her from her harsh judgement.

“Shut up,” Ymir said, but made sure not to meet Annie’s gaze.

“You should all count yourselves lucky you weren't eating with us, then,” Hannah said.

Marco grimaced. “Yeah, not so lucky,” he corrected. 

Reiner winced, as if remembering something horrible. “Since we’re the only healthy ones left, Keith Fucking Shadis went and dumped everything on us.” He sighed. “Like straightening out Daz, there. We only volunteered to do that, ‘cause we didn’t want to run laps.”

Ymir laughed at this. “Sucks to be Bertolt and Franz right now, I'll tell you that.”

“Look, if it makes any of you feel any better,” Reiner said, “Daz is really going to catch a lot of hell from Keith Fucking Shadis for fucking up his entire schedule.”

“I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help, though,” Christa said.

“Oh, believe us,” Nac said, sharing a grin of satisfaction with Jean and Connie. “That helps lots.”

Marco swept his gaze around the room, observing the casualty count, until he stopped to stare in surprise at the unlikely suspects. “Armin, Mikasa, I didn’t know you guys were sick too,” he said.

“We’re not. We thought Eren was, so we brought him here. But he isn’t, so we’re in the clear,” Armin said. Beside him, Mikasa nodded her head. Marco decided not to question her about the unconscious Eren on the bed behind her, nor did he bring up the suspicious-looking lump growing on the back of his head.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Mina Carolina said. “What about him? How come he isn’t sick?”

“Who?” Reiner asked.

“Keith Fucking Shadis,” Annie said, smoothly stepping in for her friend, because she knew Mina Carolina hated to curse.

“They’re right,” Mylius said. “The man has to eat some time, right?”

“Oh!” Hannah said, sitting up in her bed, excited and thrilled to be a part of the conversation once more. “I think I might know about this one.”

Against their better judgement, the rest of her classmates leaned in closer, so that they may be able to hear. No matter what new spins she might put into her new tale, at least it was bound to be entertaining.

And so it was, that they all learned of how Keith Fucking Shadis had escaped the disastrous Diarrhea Outbreak of the 104th entirely, because legends stated that he took to fucking hunting for his own fucking food.

As expected from a fucking well-respected drill sergeant like him.


	12. Annie

_(Timeline: After Graduation)_

Eren had stared at terror multiple times in the eye and lived, but nobody believed him when he said that there was none more terrifying in this world than Annie Leonhart.

Hanji had theorized that it was the adrenaline wearing off. Mikasa and Armin gave him knowing looks which were supposed to be telling him something, but Eren didn’t know what. Big Bad Levi told him to quit being such a wuss and get his head on straight. Jean didn’t say anything, because Eren would rather get eaten by a Titan ten times over than share his feelings with Jean.

Eren didn’t know what to think. He just knew that Annie Leonhart had scared the living shit out of him and that the scarier thing was that he still didn't have any idea how he'd even managed to beat her.

All he remembered was the rush. His emotions riding high. The absolute, predatory pleasure of ripping the skin off another person with his teeth.

It had tasted _good._

Eren was horrified. Nobody should ever like the feeling of ripping the skin off another person with teeth. But there was no denying then that that was what he felt.

Eren was hungry.

Eren wanted meat.

And so, he went to Annie.

“This is all your fault, you know,” he grumbled to his crystallized classmate. “If only you weren’t some stupid spy for those stupid Titans.”

He paused, as if expecting her to answer him.

“Your fault all I want now is meat.”

**_It’s not my fault you give in so easily to your indulges._ **

Eren almost leaped clean out of his clothes. Not that he’d give Annie the pleasure of seeing that happen anyway.

Did she just…? To him? Right now?

**_You’re useless._ **

“Aha! So you really did say something!” Eren waved an accusatory finger at the unmoving crystal.

**_Of course, it’d be so much easier to just let you talk by yourself._ **

“Then why don’t you just stop talking?”

**_I don’t have anything better to do._ **

“Well, if you didn’t turn to a stupid rock in the first place, then we wouldn’t be having this problem now, would we?”

**_It’s not a rock._ **

Eren could have sworn he heard her sigh. **_It’s a crystal. A mineral. Not a rock._**

“Whatever.”

**_You’re useless._ **

“Yeah, heard that one before.”

Silence descended upon the two. It was really quiet down here in the dungeons, Eren noticed. And very boring-looking too. What was one supposed to do for fun here anyway? Were people even allowed to have fun down in the dungeons?

He looked back at Annie.

Still sleeping in her dumb rock. Oh, excuse me, he corrected himself, a _mineral._ Almost like she hadn’t talked to him at all. She looked so peaceful where she was. Eren wondered what that must feel like, being all cooped up like that, locked in an eternal sleep, where nobody could bother you.

But no. He had no time to be thinking of such things. He had Titans to kill. However tempting the idea was, Eren knew he wouldn’t really find true rest unless all the Titans were killed. By his own hands. And maybe some by Mikasa and Armin’s hands too. Jean would somehow make it to the end without earning a single Titan kill. Eren took some perverse pleasure in that.

 ** _As if you can take down a Titan as a human._** The snort was almost audible in her tone. **_Too bad you always have to rely on your Titan form to get the job done._**

“Shut up,” Eren muttered and kicked some dust towards the stupid crystal in an effort to make Annie mad. It didn’t work. “I want meat.”

**_So, get some. Doesn’t the Scouting Legion get the best choice of supplies?_ **

“Is that a joke?” Eren sneered. “We don’t get the best _anything._ And even if we did, only a third of us’ll be alive to enjoy it.”

**_Not my problem._ **

“Anyone ever tell you how irritating you are?”

**_Anyone ever tell you you ask too many questions?_ **

“You’re such an ass, Annie.”

She didn’t bother replying.

“I want meat.”

Eren could hear her sigh from where he was standing. He tried to ignore it. So, let her sigh. She was lucky she knew this instant crystal shit, or else she’d have a lot more to sigh about.

“S’your fault I want meat.”

Annie didn’t say anything.

“If you didn’t taste _so good_ –”

**_Fuck you._ **

“Ha, I knew that’d get a reaction out of you!”

Annie would be rolling her eyes right now if she wasn’t sleeping.

Eren moved closer to the Annie-crystal and kicked it. When he got no reaction from her, he kicked harder.

**_Is hitting everything in your way your idea of a solution?_ **

Eren shrugged. “Works for me.” 

**_That’s not going to work on Mikasa._ **

Eren blushed.

**_No, wait, on second thought, you can try it on her. She might like it._ **

The effect was instantaneous. “Don’t talk about her like that!” Eren exploded. “Don’t talk about Mikasa like that!”

**_This is just too easy. Maybe I should have done this a long time ago._ **

“Yeah, you keep saying that. I still woulda kicked your ass then too.”

**_Oh, really._ **

“Fuck yeah, you bet I would.”

**_I doubt that._ **

“Hey, screw off, Annie!” Eren continued to yell. “Why don’t you get down from there and face me properly?! Come on, let’s finish our fight right here, right now!”

“ _Geez,_ I knew what the guard said, but I didn’t think you were this far off your rocker, Jaeger.”

Eren whirled around and came face to face with a smirking Jean. A worried Armin and a stoic Mikasa were standing right beside him.

“This is really something, you know,” Jean said, walking over to Eren. “I mean, you kicking Annie’s tail was one thing, but to challenge her crystallized form to a _rematch?_ Man, I knew that fight took a lot out of you, but I didn’t think –”

Mikasa elbowed him into silence.

“The guard got worried, Eren,” Armin said, neatly sidestepping a doubled-over Jean. “So she called us to check up on you.”

“Yeah, but turns out you needed a doctor instead of us, huh?”

Armin jabbed an elbow in Jean’s ribcage.

“Will you _quit_ that?!” he yelled. Armin gave him a lengthy stare in response.

“What’s wrong, Eren? Is she bothering you?” Mikasa asked, glancing at Eren worriedly. She stalked over to the crystal and glared up at Annie.

“How can she possibly bother him, when she’s all safe and sound up there?” Jean said, his face darkening a bit. “Though if you ask me, she deserves much less than that after what she did.”

“Yeah, well, that’s one thing we can both agree on,” Eren said. He turned to Mikasa. “Lay off, she’s not bothering me. At least, not anymore.”

“Hmph.” Mikasa crossed her arms and stayed rooted to her spot.

“Anyway,” Armin said. “When the guard told us she heard you shouting down here –”

“Speaking of which, you have to apologize to her, Jaeger. She heard you acting all crazy down here, like you were talking to Annie or something.”

“Well, she talked back! What was I supposed to do, ignore her?”

“ _Anything,_ as long as you didn’t have to give the guard head trauma!”

“Fuck off, Kirschtein, what do you know.”

“Oh, well, _sorry_ not all of us can turn into Titans and earn your fucking _respect,_ Jaeger. Not all of us are so gifted.”

“What was that, Graduate Number Six?”

“Hey, screw you! You’re only one spot above me!”

“Eren… are you alright?” Armin asked, immediately cutting in for the sake of everyone's collective sanity, crystallized or not. “I mean, if you’re talking to Annie, that’s fine. But if you think she talks back…”

“But _she does,_ why do none of you believe me –”

“Well, one: because she hasn’t talked to _anyone_ so far,” Jean said, holding up his finger. “And two: I already tried that, remember? Yelled at her, even. Look where that got me.”

“Yeah, and Hanji and Moblit have tried too,” Armin reminded. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Eren scratched his head. “That’s funny. She talked to _me._ That’s what I know. But don’t tell Hanji yet. I kinda want to catch up on my sleep tonight.”

“What did you two talk about?” Mikasa asked, her dangerous glance never moving away from the crystallized Annie.

Eren shrugged. “Ah, you know… Things. I mean, all I said was that it’s her fault I wanted meat all of a sudden.”

“Oh, shit, I knew it.” Jean sighed and slapped his head. “I _knew_ we should've just given you your stupid meat. If I knew you were gonna go crazy without it, I never would have approved of your vegan diet in the first place.”

“Hey, Kirsch-shit, I don’t need you to approve of my diet,” Eren said. Then a realization dawned on him. “Who made _you_ the boss of my diet anyway?!”

“Chill, Jaeger-shit,” Jean retorted. “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“Eren, if you wanted meat, you could’ve just told us,” Armin said. “You didn’t really have to come down here and… rant to Annie.”

“I was _not_ ranting!” Eren answered, the heat in his voice already starting to steam out of his ears. “She was answering! Really answering!”

“Yeah, tell that to the dungeon guard,” Jean scoffed. “That poor lady, rendered crazy, because of a dumbass who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Eren.” Mikasa placed a firm hand on his shoulder before he could lunge at Jean and tear his eyes out. “I can get you your meat if you want it.”

“Mikasa, you know they put the kitchen under heavy guard,” Armin said, shaking his head. “And we’re already running low on supplies as it is.”

“Eren needs his meat. He’s going to go crazy without it.”

“Look, Mikasa, I can handle _myself_ –”

“Aw, can it, Jaeger. Listen to your sister.”

“No, _you_ can it, Kirschstein, you little –”

_“I will get you your meat.”_

The three boys instantly froze up at Mikasa’s bold declaration.

Armin felt a chill run up his spine – he’d seen that look in her eyes before, and if past experience was any indicator, it meant that if Mikasa didn’t get her way, then somebody would end up bleeding pretty soon.

Jean felt a chill run up his spine as well, although it was for an entirely different reason.

Eren had to do a double-take to make sure it wasn’t Annie who said that. It wasn’t.

“I will get you your meat.” Mikasa repeated and began to drag Eren after her. “I will handle the guards.”

“No, wait, Mikasa, _you don’t have to do this I can handle myself wait!_ ”

The door shut behind them.

Armin and Jean shot confused glances at each other.

“So… ah… think they’ll be alright?”

“He’s with Mikasa. He’ll be fine.”

“Armin?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t really think Annie was really talking, do you?”

“… No, I don’t. Not really. Eren was just probably really hungry.”

“Yeah, thought so too. Armin?”

“Yeah?”

“You think Eren wanted his meat because of what happened? When he took down Annie?”

“Maybe? I think so. It’s possible.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“… Great. Now _I_ want meat.”

“Me too.”

“Man, you don’t think we’d turn into Titans after this too?”

“…”

“Sorry, bad joke.”

“Let’s not ever talk about this again.”

“Deal.” 

**_Good._ **

Both boys instantly whirled around to face Annie.

“Did she just –”

“I think she did, but –”

“Armin, let’s just get out of here.”

“Wait, look, I think she’s smiling.”

_“Can we please just leave already.”_

“Right behind you, Jean!”


	13. Big Brother Marco

  _(Timeline: Before Graduation)_

To truly be able to understand the scale of Marco Bott’s immeasurable kindness, one only had to refer to his relationship with Jean Kirschtein. Because Jean had already established early on that he didn’t intend on winning the affections of anybody not named Mikasa, it was so easy for everyone else to give him exactly what he wanted.

But not Marco.

For reasons that nobody was able to properly explain, Marco still insisted that there was something tolerable enough about Jean to justify their friendship. He didn’t have to outright tell anybody about this, but the fact that he was able to stay with Jean for extended amounts of time without wanting to hit him or leave him alone spoke volumes. It was really all thanks to Marco’s influence that they forced themselves to get along with Jean.

Nobody hated Jean, per se.

But nobody really wanted to be his friend, either.

It was partly because he was such an annoying jerk, but it was also mostly because he made life difficult for anyone who tried. He was a definite shoo-in for the Top Ten, however, so everyone else had learned to put up with him in the end.

But not Marco.

And it was because of this loyal friendship that people became more open to the idea that there just might be something in Jean that was redeemable after all. But if Marco wanted to solve that mystery on his own, then that was fine too.

Marco Bott was a saint, and everyone in the 104th felt lucky to have gotten to know him at some point in their lives.

If only some of them could say the same for Jean.

“It isn’t even like that with him, you know!” Eren said, wanting to present himself as a good man worthy of Marco’s understanding. “It’s just… I can’t help it sometimes. Ask Armin and Mikasa! They’ll tell you! I’m always trying to start a fight. It’s true!”

Marco nodded his head. “I understand, Eren.”

“You do?” Suddenly, Eren didn’t think he’d wanted Marco to understand anything at all. “Because if you think I’m a violent guy, then you’ve got it all wrong.”

Marco stared at him.

Eren fidgeted under his stare. “Well… you’ve got some of it wrong.”

Marco nodded his head again.

Eren found himself filled with a thousand comebacks, all of them bubbling rapidly to the top and demanding to be released. But in the face of the innate, benevolent, and ever-lasting goodness of Marco Bott, he was mum.

“Well…” Eren mustered, his brain racing to find a more acceptable, polite way to tell Marco that his best pal was an ass.

But Marco continued to look on patiently, his face a complete picture of calmness. After a few tense-filled moments of silence, Eren ultimately decided that he did not want to disappoint such a kind-looking face.

“Well…” Eren tried again. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away to hide his growing blush, both of which were indications of his impending surrender. “Well, if you say so.”

Marco’s face lit up in joy, causing Eren to feel as if he’d done something good and worthwhile in the world.

“That’s great, Eren!” Marco exclaimed. “I really appreciate this. Jean will too, I’m sure.”

Not even the mention of Jean’s name was enough to dampen Eren’s mood now. “O-of course!” he said. “It’s no big deal anyway.”

Marco smiled again and clapped Eren on the shoulder in thanks. Immediately, Eren felt like melting into a satisfied little puddle of goo. There was some shame in showing vulnerability in front of someone like Jean, although none of the same in melting in front of Marco.

These were the sort of miracles Marco performed in his spare time, in between training sessions, and whenever they all stopped to collect their breaths.

In a way, the 104th supposed that Jean Kirschtein’s existence in their barracks could provide them with some good, if only to give the holy Marco Bott an excuse to perform his good deeds in public. It wasn’t to say, however, that Marco only deigned to perform his miracles for the sake of Jean. Sometimes, he went out of his way to do the same to anyone he deemed worthy – and as is the case with these sorts of miracle cases, anyone who found themselves on the receiving end of this infinite goodness felt very much unworthy to feel so blessed.

It didn’t stop with the obvious ones, like Dazz. It didn’t end with the tougher ones, like Eren. Indeed, Marco was a friend to all, and enemy only to the most irredeemable of classmates. But such classmates didn’t exist, because if anyone had dared to go against Marco, they would instantly find themselves at the mercy of Jean’s fists and sharp tongue.

And if even that had failed to do the trick, there were other squad mates in the barracks all too willing to lend a helping fist to the cause of defending Marco’s dignity.

For the Titan fodder and fresh meat prepping themselves for the slaughter and slaughtering, the presence of eternally-kind Marco Bott was a fresh salve for the fear they held for their imminent future. If such good could exist in a world so terrible, they reasoned, then they would surely make it out alive.

His presence alone provided them with great hope and comfort. His words of advice and inspiration became everyone else’s voice of reason. His actions, encouragement for them to do the same. Even Mikasa was known to soften her eyes in the presence of Marco, while Ymir was seen to scowl less when he was in the vicinity.

It was because of this mutual respect that everyone had secretly come to the conclusion to make Marco their undisputed leader.

But it was a secret that would remain so until their graduation, out of fear that Jean would react harshly and become ten times more embarrassed in behalf of his good friend Marco.

Everybody listened to Marco – and so, it went without saying that everybody liked Marco.

Except, perhaps, for Bertolt Fubar.

“Why is he so nice?”

“What?”

“Nobody’s ever that nice. Why should he be any different?”

Reiner chuckled. “How many times have I told you this, Bertolt? Deep thinking during dinner time isn’t your thing. Remember? You’re lucky Connie isn’t with us right now to hear you say that stuff.”

Bertolt frowned. “It just doesn’t make sense,” he muttered.

“You’re talking a lot for someone who barely made it past field exercises today.”

Predictably, Bertolt began to turn a very violent shade of red. The pure sight of it made Reiner guffaw and thump him on the back.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m not worrying about it. Heck, look at me. I don’t worry about anything, and I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” He side-eyed Reiner. “It’s not like I don’t like him,” he offered, if it would make his friend feel better.

But Reiner was shaking his head. “I know, I know,” he said. “Relax. I understand. Sort of.”

They gazed over at Eren and Jean squabbling again at a nearby table. Despite the best efforts of Armin and the extreme nonchalance of Mikasa, it seemed there was no separating both of the boys. But when Marco stepped near their table, the rumble stopped almost instantaneously, which came to the surprise of neither Bertolt nor Reiner.

Another day, another miracle, courtesy of one Marco Bott.

Life went on as normal for everyone else.

“He’d make a good member of the Military Police,” Reiner said. Despite himself, Bertolt found himself agreeing.

“I just think…” Bertolt started again. “I just think he’s going to get himself killed, if he keeps it up.”

Reiner looked at him in momentary shock, then relaxed his features into a warm smile. “Why, Bertolt!” he said. “You _do_ care! I’m so proud.”

Bertolt flinched. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he said, but was secretly quite glad he’d made Reiner smile again that day. “He’s just too nice, that’s all. I know everyone likes him. But he’s really going to die someday if he doesn’t stop.”

“Maybe,” Reiner conceded. “But I really doubt anyone here’ll let that happen.”

Bertolt gave his friend a long look. “Have you forgotten why we’re here?”

To his credit, this got a significant reaction out of Reiner. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. Looked down at his food a little guiltily, as if that would absolve him of his forgetfulness. When he answered, it came in a very low, soft tone of voice.

“Of _course_ I remember why we’re here,” was all he said.

Bertolt nodded. “Good. So stop worrying so much.”

Reiner guffawed again. “What, me, _worry?_ ” he said. “Bertolt, if there’s anyone here who’s more worried about the others, it’s you!”

Bertolt looked away immediately, feeling his face heat up again. “That’s…” he began, struggling to think of an excuse. He panicked when he found that he didn’t have any. “That’s not true!”

But Reiner would not stop laughing.

“This isn’t funny!”

“It is, if it’s you! You should see yourself right now!” His features softened again. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Bertolt. I’m actually glad you’re finally having fun.”

Bertolt shook his head. This was why he didn’t like talking about feelings with Reiner much – either Reiner was way off the mark or he deduced everything perfectly and concisely. For someone who preferred to keep to himself without bothering anyone, hanging around such a dense, perceptive companion was understandably frustrating for Bertolt. 

At the table across theirs, a momentary truce had been forged. While Jean had to move to a separate table entirely to ultimately put a stop to the fight, things had at least quieted down again. Everyone could proceed to re-think their life choices in peace before another rough day tomorrow.

“Marco’s a great guy,” Reiner marveled. “He really is. He’s one of the good guys here. They all are, but you know what I mean.”

Deep down inside, Bertolt did indeed know what Reiner meant. Nobody possessed an aura quite like Marco’s, after all. Everyone listened to him and respected his opinions. Even if Christa was just as saintly as he was, Marco had a more authoritative air about him, even if it didn’t seem like he'd realized this yet.

They had, if anything, won Reiner over completely, although Bertolt supposed this was mostly a matter of Reiner having a limited number of childhood friends from back home.

Bertolt shook his head. Reiner was just way too enamored with how things were done here, in the world. He only hoped Reiner wouldn’t become too starry-eyed by their classmates when the time came for them to act.  

Marco, indeed, was too nice for this world – so much, that his existence alone seemed like a bad joke. Nobody could be so nice and not get the appropriate payback for it, of this Bertolt was certain. It was impossible to be like Marco and be able to get away with it.

“The world’s a cruel place.”

Reiner looked at him, long and considering, but Bertolt stood his ground. Finally, Reiner broke the tension by shaking his head. “Not really,” he said, “if guys like him can make it here.”

“Make what? He’s barely even seen anything, you know that.”

“Well, geez, Bertolt, you don’t want to let me dream or anything?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt later on.”

Reiner socked his shoulder, but Bertolt was resolute and determined not to change his mind. Unfortunately, the same seemed to be the case with Reiner also.

“It’s dangerous to put all your hope in one person,” Bertolt tried again.

“So tell that to Armin and Mikasa. Tell that to Eren. Tell that to me.” Reiner still wasn’t giving up.

“I _am_ telling you. Why won’t you listen?”

“Hope’s not such a bad thing, you know. That’s one thing I’m starting to learn here.”

“And if they die? What are you going to do about it?”

That brought on another bout of silence, and for a moment, Bertolt thought he’d finally silenced the traitorous thoughts running through Reiner’s mind. But he caught his friend staring Marco’s way again, and Bertolt dreaded to hear what would be coming out of Reiner's mouth next.

“Well.” Reiner shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to start over again. It’s what he would do.”

Things had changed for them quickly when they signed up for boot camp, but the change was most visible with Reiner, who had taken to all the newness and modernity like a fish to water. It was a change that scared Bertolt terribly, and already, he’d begun to think up ways to make Reiner see the light.

“Don’t blame me if something happens.”

“Wouldn’t even think about it.”

“I’m serious.”

“Well, I might cry to you about it for a little while.”

Reiner erupted into laughter again when Bertolt flushed and snorted water out of his nose. And suddenly, like their terrifying drill sergeant and his ability to appear out of nowhere at the first sign of trouble, Marco Bott materialized at their table in an instant.

“Bertolt, are you okay?” he said, and at the same time, fixed Reiner with a severe look. “Reiner, I keep telling you not to make fun of him like this. You know how shy he gets.”

Reiner was still laughing. “Relax, relax,” he said. “I’m his friend, okay? I know these things.”

Marco shook his head, clicking his tongue the whole way. As if by magic, he’d produced some towels from somewhere and was offering them to Bertolt, who’d already long ceased his coughing.

“Thanks,” Bertolt said and took the towels, even if he didn’t need them anymore. He didn’t want to seem rude.

Marco smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it!”

Without meaning to, Bertolt smiled back at him. “You’re so nice,” he said, not even giving himself time to consider what had just come dancing out of his mouth.

He heard Reiner snort near him, but Bertolt chose to very firmly ignore this. In front of him, Marco began to blush.

“I don’t know about that.” He chuckled. “But thanks!”

It was a sight to behold for Bertolt, who found his troubles and worries ease back into the dark recesses of his mind as soon as Marco's face lit up. If there was a more meaningful, simple thing he’d learned from his time in boot camp, it was that it wasn’t difficult to smile around Marco.

So, Bertolt did it again.


	14. Eren, Jr.

_(Timeline: After Graduation)_

One day, the remaining soldiers of the 104th found a dog. Or rather, the dog found them, wandering into their quarters, its tail wagging proudly, as if it belonged there.

The members of Levi’s new squad fell in love with it immediately.

They were also thankful that Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou was away on important business, because everyone knew he would be completely livid upon seeing the mud tracks this dog had left.

“I know.” Eren grinned and picked up the newest addition to the squad. “Let’s call this dog Jean.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Jean frowned. “We’re not naming that thing after me.”

“It’s not a thing, Jean, it’s a dog. Don’t be stupid.”

“I’ll have you know that my name is a damned good one and that I won’t stand to let that dog have it.”

“Hey, Jean? Call me again once you yank that huge stick out of your ass.”

“Why the hell do you even want to name it after _me?_ ”

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole. I just felt like it, okay?”

“Okay, but I still want to know why.”

“Okay, fine. You want to know why? Because it’s got the same stink eyes as yours, shit-face, that’s why.”

“Hey!” Christa Lenz, Goddess of the 104th and Friend to All Living Things, interfered and took the dog aside before it got caught in the crossfire. “You can’t call it that.”

“Listen, you Jaeger-shit, I don’t want to add dog-face to my growing list of nicknames.”

“Oh, so shit-face is fine, huh? Shit-face.”

“What growing list of nicknames? Jean, you’re only known as horse-face around here. That’s it.”

“Not helping, Connie!”

“Yeah, and now we’re adding shit-face to the list, since Jean doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

_“I’ll show you shit-face, Jaeger-shit!”_

“Guys, please cut it out right now!” said Christa Lenz, the Ignored Goddess of the 104th. “You’re scaring Jean!”

“Aw Christa, not you too!”

“Aw Jean, you didn’t tell me you were scared. Want me to hold your hand?”

But she was right.

In the midst of all the yelling, Connie looked around and noticed that Jean the Dog had indeed bailed on them, if the empty space it had been occupying minutes ago was any indication.

As soon as he came to this realization, Connie also noticed two other things: that Jean the Dog had made a bigger mud mess on his way out, and that Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou’s horse had just come to a halt at the outside stables.

As soon as he noticed those two other things, Connie arrived at a conclusion: that everyone in the room was now in Big, Bad Trouble.

Connie would have reveled in the fact that he had figured that out fairly quickly despite all the yelling in the background. But before he could open his mouth to properly gloat, Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou had already stepped into the room, bringing it to a deathly silence.

Sometimes, there were moments when even self-proclaimed geniuses knew that an “I told you so” would only make a situation worse. This was one such moment.

Connie opted to silently pat himself on the back for figuring that one out too.

* * *

Levi was thoroughly pissed.

His last meeting with the higher-ups took for-fucking-ever and he could feel every complaint his body had against the stupid meeting on his entire trip back. But he had done it anyway, comfortable in the thought that, with the proper training, these new brats would be just as good as Petra, Eld, Gunther, and Oluo were. After spending a whole day defending his decision to his superiors, Levi felt more and more sure that he had made the right decision by taking these brats under his wing.

They were, after all, members of the controversial 104th graduating class – they had tragedy and Titans stare at them in the face and lived, so surely they must have grown up a little. And besides, Jaeger was with them. Jaeger knew how Levi was as a leader. Jaeger had an entire collection of horror stories when it came to Levi the Big, Bad Heichou. After the massacre of his former unit, Levi knew that Jaeger could be relied on.

Therefore, Levi was unable to think of a word to describe the myriad of emotions he felt the moment he walked into the quarters, greeted by a pathetic sight.

There were Jaeger and Jean Kirschtein, both of them mid-punch and their faces still locked on Angry, even after they saw Levi step in. Christa Lenz was in between them, obviously trying to calm them down. Connie Springer had his back to the door, but was frozen up as well, his arms still in mid-wave, obviously in an attempt to tell them that Levi the Big, Bad Heichou had returned.

Children. The whole lot of them were still children. Levi couldn’t let himself forget that, no matter how many Titans they killed or how many missions they survived. They were still children. And because they were still children, Levi knew he still had to discipline them every so often.

He looked around at their still-frozen forms and shook his head.

Children.

* * *

And so it was that the entire unit of Levi’s new squad found themselves cleaning the entire base, even if they’d already finished doing this two hours ago. Even Mikasa, Armin, and Sasha, who had been dutifully doing their chores outside when the ruckus broke out, were not exempted from the extra cleaning.

There was much grumbling to be had and Levi basked in their groans as he sipped his tea.

For some reason, they were all blaming the Kirschtein boy.

Levi did not know why. Nor did he want to find out.

He sipped his tea again.

“Missed a spot there, Springer. Again.”

* * *

One day, the remaining soldiers of the 104th found a cat. Or rather, the cat found them, wandering into their quarters, meowing very loudly, as if it belonged there.

The members of Levi’s new squad fell in love with it immediately.

“Please tell me we’re not keeping him.” Connie said and crossed his arms, frowning at the cat.

“Yeah, I’m really not in the mood for any more cleaning.” Jean said, agreeing with Connie.

“Shut up, Jean. Last time was obviously your fault.” Connie said, disagreeing with Jean.

Jean promptly shut up and joined Connie in frowning at the cat.

But Eren was not hearing any of it.

“Oh, I know what we should call this cat.”

“You better not be thinking of my name again, Jaeger-shit.”

“Shut up, Kirsch-shit. Who said I was thinking of you?”

“Oh, so my name’s not good enough for the stupid cat now, huh?”

“What? I thought you didn’t like giving your name away.”

“Well, I hate it even more if I’m being disrespected like this! Why isn’t my name good enough for that stupid cat?”

“Geez Jean, if I didn't know any better, I’d say you were on your period right now.”

“Not helping, Connie!”

“What’s the matter, Jean? Not man enough to admit your own period?”

“That doesn't even make _sense,_ you piece of shit!”

“Guys!”  

There were fewer people the 104th listened to than Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou and Keith Fucking Shadis, and that was Armin Arlert in Business Mode. Appearances no longer deceived the soldiers who had shared bunk beds and meals with Titan shifters. They had learned to adjust. And in adjusting, they learned that Armin in Business Mode meant he was Pretty Friggin' Serious and that they had to listen.

So, they listened.

“We can’t name this cat Jean.” Armin said.

“Ha! You see!”

_“Armin, you traitor, I thought we -”_

“We can’t, because this cat is female. See?”

And indeed it was.

As if to confirm Armin’s statement, the cat let out a small meow by way of introduction to the squad. Everyone’s hearts melted immediately at the sound.

“So it’s a girl. Big deal. We can still call it Jean.” Eren said, still persistent in getting a rise out of Jean.

Jean opened his mouth to refute that statement, but was silenced immediately as Mikasa walked up to Armin and gently took the cat from his hands. Nobody had really noticed that Mikasa was in the room with them too, but Jean definitely noticed that he was still hopelessly in love with her, as evidenced by his helpless stuttering every time she showed up from nowhere.

He was still hoping he had a chance at earning her affections.

Mikasa brought the cat closer to her face, examined it closely, and let out a thoughtful hum.

“Eren.”

This was all she said before walking out of the room with her newfound playmate, presumably to show the cat off to Sasha and Christa.

Right after she exited the room, whatever bubble of peace and tranquility that had descended upon the men then burst quite violently, giving way to a multitude of reactions.

“What the hell kind of a name is that?!  It’s a _girl_ and I’m _not_ , how –”

“Aw can it, Jaeger-shit. You should be flattered she thought of you first.”

“If I didn't know any better, Jean, I’d say you were pretty jealous she didn't pick your name.”

“Not helping, Connie!”

In the midst of all the yelling, Armin looked around and noticed two things: that Eren the Cat had made quite a bit of a mess on her way in, and that Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou’s horse had, once again, stopped outside their camp at the most unfortunate time possible.

As soon as he noticed those two things, Armin arrived at a conclusion: that nobody in the room was going to like what happened next.

He was absolutely right.

* * *

It took a long time for the squad to convince Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou to let them keep the cat. It took them so long a time, that they had to turn to Armin and Christa to try and make Levi see things their way. He finally relented when he found out that Mikasa had named it Eren.

But because the real Eren got so confused all the time and didn’t know if people wanted him or the cat, Mikasa took pity on him and renamed the cat Eren, Jr. Only Jean and Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou were not happy with this new development.

A short time after, Levi, the Big Bad Heichou decided that Eren Jr. was just too fucking long, so he renamed it Junior. Nobody else wanted to tell him that only Mikasa had renaming rights to the cat, as they were all too busy trying to restrain Mikasa from murdering Levi in his sleep.

Then, as if remembering that Junior was a girl, Mikasa shortened the name further to just June. Levi, the Big, Bad Heichou was unhappy with yet another name change, but Mikasa did not fucking care. If he didn’t like June’s new name, then that would only mean that he would stay further away from her, which suited Mikasa just fine.

Unfortunately, June did not live for very long.

Nobody knew how June ended up on the battlefield that day, but after another sortie against the Titans, someone had found June the Cat, who used to be named Junior, who used to be named Eren, Jr., and who was originally named Eren squashed among the rubble. Everyone was so sure they left her behind at their quarters, which only meant that June the Cat had slipped out to follow them all into battle. Despite her sadness, Mikasa found herself silently commending June for having the endurance to follow their horses all the way out into Titan territory.

Everyone in the squad gave June the Cat a decent burial, including Levi himself, and they held a solemn ceremony in her honor, as befitting of a true member of the Survey Corps. Mikasa was obviously devastated with the loss, but hardly showed any signs of it, except to Eren and to Armin, who worked very hard to convince her that June’s death was not symbolic of anything.

However, if she started killing the Titans more viciously, or if she kept a closer watch on Eren on the battlefields, everyone else pretended not to notice.


End file.
